


Eye of the Beholder

by salanderjade (whowhatsitwhich)



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, F/M, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whowhatsitwhich/pseuds/salanderjade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how perfectly he arranged and refined them, they were nothing more than dolls. Try as he might, no amount of paint or powder could give them back what they had lost. They were broken. Detective Katniss Everdeen searches for a killer known only as the Dollmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Prologue: Watch Six

He hated the way fear robbed them of any semblance of life and light in those last moments. Ghastly gray dusted their cheeks and blew out their eyes like a candle. No matter how perfectly he arranged and refined them, they were nothing more than dolls. Their faces a parody, their eyes glassy and cold. Try as he might, no amount of paint or powder could give them back what they had lost. They were broken.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The uniforms created a perimeter around the building—a thin blue line holding back the ravenous horde of reporters and onlookers.

Katniss Everdeen drew a deep breath as she was waved through the barricade after flashing her credentials. This was the third one in as many months. She parked her car and dried her hands on her pants before climbing out. Her partner was already on scene. Flipping open the notebook where she had hurriedly jotted a few details upon receiving the call, she reviewed them so they would be fresh in her mind. The victim was a female in her late teens. Her boss had discovered her upon coming in to close the restaurant down for the night. The woman was hysterical when she called 911. She had already provided an ID. The girl's name was Rue.

She was halfway across the parking lot before a voice brought her up short. Turning swiftly, she caught a glimpse of one of the SID guys waving to her. She raised an acknowledging hand and quickened her step. As she drew closer, Finnick Odair pushed a gloved hand through rumpled copper waves then stated, "We're ready to get started as soon as you're done. Don't expect to find much of anything if the other two are anything to go by. This guy doesn't make mistakes."

Katniss gave him a sympathetic look, silently agreeing with his assessment. SID had gone over the two previous locations with a fine tooth comb and come up empty. No hair, no prints, no fibers. Nothing. The only bit of evidence they had so far was a partial imprint from a muddy boot found just inside the door where the first victim was discovered. Glimmer Downs, her mind stubbornly insisted, not victim. She forced herself to use their names, refusing to give in to the urge to tar them with a meaningless label. To take their names was to forget that they were human. To sweep aside the fact that they had lives and families and dreams before crossing paths with the faceless stranger Katniss now sought.

"He can't keep it up forever," she said. "Eventually, he'll slip up and when that happens, we'll nail his ass to the wall. It will happen, Finn. Just be patient."

Finnick toyed with the edge of his glove, snapping it repeatedly against the thin skin of his wrist. "We're catching a lot of heat from upstairs on this one. People are scared. They're beginning to lose faith in our ability to keep them safe. Rumor has it that the Mayor himself called the chief to demand that something be done. They want this guy off the streets, sooner rather than later."

She worried her bottom lip as she turned that over in her mind. Cases such as this were bad enough without the high brass sticking their noses in. High jingo, she'd heard it called by one of the old guys. Cray, a forty year veteran, always said that when a case had high jingo, you worked it by the book and watched your six. Katniss didn't put much stock in Cray's stories but that was one piece of advice that she took to heart. She'd spent most of her life perfecting the art of watching her back.

That skill stood her in good stead at the academy where guys outnumbered the girls by five to one. Her class of fifty cadets included twelve females, an oddity in and of itself. By the end of the term, only Katniss and one other had made the cut. Johanna Mason was a hard-boiled survivor much like Katniss herself. The first thing Jo had done after receiving her badge was to get a tattoo commemorating the occasion. The Salvador Dali clock with six being the largest and most noticeable on the face was clearly a nod to Cray's bit of wisdom.

"I guess that means I'd better get busy then," she joked. "Don't want to do anything to upset the Mayor."

Finnick chuckled. "We can't have that. Get a move on, Everdeen. You're holding up an important investigation. Those of us that have to work for a living have to wait until you and Hawthorne make your rounds. I promised Annie I'd be there for dinner tonight. Don't make me out to be one of those guys that lies to his wife."

"Don't worry, Finn. We'll get you home before the oven timer goes off." Katniss pulled a pair of gloves out of her pocket and rolled them on. "Besides, she's going out with me and Jo this weekend. She won't have time to be mad at you. It's Johanna's last weekend of freedom so we have to give her a good send off."

"Whatever you do, don't corrupt my wife. I married a good girl, Everdeen, and I want to keep it that way. You and Johanna keep your heathen ways to yourself. Annie doesn't need your bad habits."

Katniss snorted as she shouldered by him. "You just keep telling yourself that, Finnick. Annie doesn't need my help to pick up bad habits. She just plays at being sweet and innocent because you have a thing for that. I know about the schoolgirl fantasy. Don't tempt me to make that knowledge public."

"Bite your tongue," he scolded. "The world ain't ready for that."

"Ready or not, here I come." She murmured as she ducked through the swinging door that led into the kitchen. "I'll give you a yell as soon as we're ready for you."

Finnick tossed her a crooked grin. "I'll be waiting. Watch six, Katniss."

"Always," she mouthed quietly. Giving him a nod, she let the door ease shut behind her.

An older woman sat at the work counter with her face buried in her hands. Muffled sobs leaked from between her tightly wound fingers. At the sound of the door, she sat up, daubing her eyes with a tattered napkin. Short snatches of breath and a voice more crumpled than the apron lying forgotten on her lap gave away her secret. She had been crying long and hard by the look of her. Katniss thumbed a card from her jacket pocket and proffered it. The woman took it and held it in trembling fingers; her eyes lost and hopeless.

"Sae, I'm very sorry for your loss. I know this has been difficult for you. My name is Katniss Everdeen. I'm a detective with the Panem Police Department. " She stuck her hands back in her pockets as she watched the woman carefully. The first conversation was inevitably the hardest. She didn't want to make the woman any more upset than she already was. She needed Sae to focus. The trick was to show respect for the woman's grief, but also to get a cogent account of what she had witnessed. The slightest slip up now could result in the perp getting a get out of jail card. It had to be done right. No mistakes. "Take your time. Gather your thoughts. When you're ready, please tell me what happened as clearly and concisely as you can."

Sae visibly swallowed, patted her eyes with the soaked napkin, and heaved a shaky sigh. "I got here about ten o'clock to close up. Everything looked just like it always did except Rue wasn't out front. I thought she was in the back, filling up the sugars or something. When I opened the door, I could see her lying on the floor. I called out to her but she didn't move." New tears leaked out and ran down her face as Sae fought for control. "She didn't move, didn't do anything. I got scared that maybe she'd fallen and got hurt so I ran over. When I saw her face, I screamed. I couldn't help it. She just looked so…" The woman's voice broke on a stifled sob as she covered her face with her hands once more.

Katniss reached for a roll of paper towels sitting nearby and unwound a few. She folded them neatly together and tucked them gently into the distraught woman's hand. "Take a few minutes to compose yourself. I need to speak with my partner but I'll be right back. You take all the time you need." She smiled at the woman's grateful look before turning and walking deeper into the kitchen. She could see the body lying in the open area between the sink and the massive freezers that lined the back wall of the kitchen. Gale Hawthorne's lanky figure was propped up against one of the brushed steel doors as he held a cell phone up to his ear listening intently. He flicked a glance in her direction, waved her forward, and then turned his attention back to his phone. Katniss stilled herself, closing her eyes and taking deep fortifying breaths before she allowed herself to look.

The small form was horrible in its stillness. She lay as if sleeping on the cold, gray tiles of the kitchen, her hair spread out in a halo around her. Katniss stopped in the door and let her eyes sweep the scene. She was struck by the tableau. Death, she had learned, had many faces and forms. There was seldom any rhyme or reason to it.

This one was different. She lay gracefully on her side, hands loosely twined together as if in prayer, her face tilted toward the ceiling. There were no visible signs of violence except for the utter lack of movement. What took her back, what stole her breath was the girl's face. Painted with an artist's precision. A meaningless smile beamed from beneath wide, vacant eyes. A picture perfect doll.

"The Dollmaker," Gale observed grimly from behind her. Katniss nodded silently, her eyes locked on the girl before her. "That makes three. Dammit, how are we going to catch this guy?"

Katniss shook her head, feeling Gale's frustration as if it were her own. "I don't know. I just don't know."

End Part 1

A/N Watch six means "watch your back"... the phrase as well as the Dollmaker and facepainting belongs to Michael Connelly. This story is influenced by Mr. Connelly's book "The Concrete Blonde".


	2. Behind Every Pretty Picture

Chapter 1: Behind Every Pretty Picture

"Sunsets make you forget it's the smog that makes their colors so brilliant, that behind every pretty picture there can be an ugly story." ~~Harry Bosch, as written by Michael Connelly

The drowned light seeped through the blinds in dribs and drabs, forming stair-stepped puddles on the floor, the bed, the bodies twined together in the dark. Quiet gasps and muted sighs stood in counterpoint to the soft slap of skin meeting skin. Ebb and flow. Want giving way to need. In and out. Back and forth. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Then nothing.

Like water down the drain, it left him hollow. Lifting his head, he stared at her face, willing himself to continue. Her closed eyes and parted lips should have set him afire. Instead, it bled him dry. He slowed then stilled. Her blood tipped fingers slid down his back, urging him on but instead of rekindling the flame, it left him cold. The moment unraveled as it moved on. His feet found the floor as he shoved his hands into disheveled curls. She rose up on elbow, sidled closer, and pressed herself to his back.

"Come back down here," she purred. "I'll make it worth your while."

He snorted under his breath, retrieved his boxers from the floor and pulled them on before climbing to his feet. "If it was that easy, I wouldn't have left," he fired back.

She stiffened, nails biting into her palms as his stinging words found their mark. "You're a bastard, Peeta. Fuck you."

His head tilted to the side as he sent her an amused grin. "Maybe next time, sweetheart. Probably never." He paused long enough to slip a t-shirt over his head before scooping up his shoes and making his way to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob, wondering if leaving was really what he wanted. Embarrassment and anger twisted his gut. "Dammit," he breathed. "What the hell am I doing?" He yanked the door open, putting a fist sized hole in the wall as they met with a sharp thud. He didn't apologize, didn't stop to assess the damage, and didn't give a backward glance. He left…a maneuver he'd perfected over the years, and never let get out of practice.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

He didn't go home. He couldn't go there. There was nothing but bare walls and dingy carpet. Home. He didn't even remember what that meant anymore, if he ever really knew. You can't miss something you never had.

Things changed, people changed. Some things, though, were forever written in stone. He would always come up just a little short, be just a little too late, and would never be good enough. She made sure that fact was indelibly imprinted on his soul. Useless. Worthless. Insignificant. It didn't matter that he graduated with high honors, that he won the state title in his weight division three years running, that he owned his own business. Hers was the voice in his head that whispered in his lowest moments that no matter what he did, it wouldn't change anything. It was pointless. He was pointless.

His phone chirped from the front pocket of his jeans, gratefully diverting his attention. He tapped the screen and let a genuine smile cross his face. If there was one person that always managed to cheer him up, Prim could.

What's going on, big brother? You didn't come by like you promised.

Peeta felt a slight twinge of guilt as he took in those words. He very seldom broke his word to Prim. She was the one person in the world that loved him unconditionally. She was all the family he had. He worried his bottom lip as he tapped a response, hoping that she wasn't too upset. He would have to make it up to her.

Sorry, little sis. Got busy at work and lost track of time. I'll make it up to you.

He hit send and prayed that she would accept the paper-thin excuse. It was pathetically weak and he didn't doubt that she would see straight through it. He hoped that she wouldn't call him on it. He couldn't lie to her because she knew him better than anyone. She'd know it for what it was the minute the words left his mouth. The phone beeped a second later. He held his breath as he read the reply.

Tell what's her name that she'd better be good to you or she'll have to deal with me. Tomorrow then. No take backs this time.

A sigh of relief fell from his lips along with a rueful chuckle. Busted. He knew he couldn't fool her.

See you tomorrow first thing. Have a good sleep.

Her winking smiley face reply lifted his spirits. He locked the phone and shoved it back into his pocket, the smile lingering as he resumed his aimless stroll. Prim. He often wished that he shared her untainted view of the world. She saw the good in everything, even him. She accepted and loved without question. He hadn't been that open in too many years to count, if ever. Nora Mellark had seen to that. How something as good and bright as Prim had come from that woman was one of the mysteries of the universe. He couldn't fathom it. Didn't understand it and yet, he thanked God every day that she had. Without Prim, he would be completely lost.

His stomach grumbled irritably, a grim reminder that he hadn't eaten since lunch and that was hours ago. He glanced at his watch then at the street signs to get his bearings. It was late, later than he anticipated, too late to grab dinner at the usual spots. A stray memory clicked as he noted the corner of Twelth and Lavinia just up ahead. Abernathy's Pub was just a few blocks over and should still be serving despite the late hour. The owner, Haymitch, was seldom there this time of night but his partner, known by Ripper even though her name was Janet, kept the kitchen open until last call. The food was plain but filling and the portions were more than generous.

He made the short walk in mere minutes and was soon seated at a corner booth, studying the menu intently after telling the server to bring him a beer. She came back a few moments later with a frothy mug and plunked it down in front of him. Her smile was languid and slow and full of promise. He returned the coy, flirtatious look that accompanied the smile before catching himself. He'd already made that mistake tonight and had no intentions of repeating it. He ordered the specialty burger with a side of fries, returning the menu with a tepid smile. He couldn't help but notice the way her face fell as she tucked the menu under her arm as she turned away. Peeta let out a sigh as he stared disconsolately at the flickering TV holding court above the bar. He'd managed to fuck up yet again. No matter what he did, he always managed to disappoint somebody.

She came back shortly bearing a steaming plate loaded down with more food than he could eat. He waited until she placed it before him along with a bottle of ketchup before giving her a smile along with warm thanks. The girl, whose tag identified her as Delly, beamed at him before heading to another table where a couple had just taken their seats.

His gaze wandered from the screen to the cheerful blonde and back again. He knew it was a bad idea, it was too soon and he was letting recklessness override his customary caution. Coming here was a bad idea, a foolish mistake. He forced himself to finish the rest of his meal, left a generous tip, and left before he did something that he would definitely regret. Home then. That was the only place left to go.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The shop was dark and desolate; seemingly abandoned in the thin moonlight. He cut down the alley to the secluded door that led to an upstairs apartment. He flipped on the light and stared in dissatisfaction at the tiny room. The walls were still dull, weathered beige. The carpet was still dingy, faded brown. The cast off sofa that he'd picked up from Goodwill for a song still sagged in the middle….a tired, beaten mess. The only splash of color was a framed painting that took pride of place over the chipped and dented mantle. He crossed the room and stood before it, his eyes taking in every swirl and brush stroke. He remembered the place as if it were yesterday, though he hadn't been there in more than ten years.

The meadow stretched out like a tear drop in the vast expanse of woods behind his childhood home. The grass made a feather soft carpet in vibrant emerald dotted here and there with spots of color…pink wild roses, purple violets, and canary dandelions. The stream was a ribbon of liquid sunlight as it meandered its way toward the distant river. Two forms were barely visible, almost obscured by the drooping branches of a willow that hugged the bank. Blonde hair gleamed like spun gold in the honey tinted light. Her face was obscured by a long curtain of hair that tossed and twined in the shifting breeze. Her hand held that of a small boy who looked up at her admiringly with eyes the same faded blue as the sky above.

He felt himself begin to tremble as he looked at that shrouded face. He remembered that day, and the way her teeth flashed as she smiled. It was one of the few good times. One of the only memories he had of her that he wanted to hang on to. Other memories, shiny and wavering in their intensity, clamored for his notice. He pushed them aside through long practice. Not now. Not now.

The voice, her voice, rose up out of the dark places that he tried so hard to ignore. Nobody could ever love you. You don't deserve it. You're worthless. Stupid boy, how could anyone love a thing like you? His clenched fist met the wall beneath the painting with a muffled thud. The thin line of crimson left went unnoticed. He was trapped; flailing miserably to get away but held there by his own inability to deny the words that cut him like knives. Useless bastard. Good for nothing. Only fit to sleep with the pigs. The very air about him vibrated as the memories continued to roll in like the tide. Get in there. Don't make a sound. You can come out when I say you can. Don't make me tell you again. Tears burned his eyes and made scorching lines down his face. All he ever wanted was to be loved. All he ever wanted….

Peeta found himself on his knees, head in his hands and sobs tearing at his throat. Why did he keep doing this to himself? Why, after all these years, did she still have the power to reduce him to a pathetic, cowering heap? Why? He rolled shakily to his feet, avoiding the painting and his own eyes reflected in the darkened glass of the television screen. In desperation, he flipped the switch, hoping that he could find a distraction, anything to keep him from going back there again.

The fanfare of the local news broadcast sounded in the silent room. He reached for the remote but stopped as a somber face filled the screen. "Another grisly discovery was made tonight at a local eatery. Although we could get no confirmation from officers at the scene, we have learned that a third victim of the killer known as the Dollmaker was found just a few hours ago. Claude Templesmith is coming to us live via satellite with a report. What do you have for us, Claude?" Caesar Flickerman's grave tone was mirrored by the reporter that replaced him.

"Caesar, we have yet to confirm any details but we have learned that the owner came in around 10 pm to close. What she found was horrifying. We have obtained a copy of the 911 call. The police have cordoned off the street and are still trying to put together a cogent picture of what happened here tonight." The image shifted to a slender girl with a long braid hanging down her back, her expression serious and subdued. The camera zoomed in for an instant, giving a brief glimpse of stormy gray eyes and a generous mouth taut with anxiety and unease. "We'll keep you updated as new facts become available. This is Claude Templesmith for Pamem News."

Peeta sat back in his seat, eyes unfocused as his mind raced to process what he'd just seen. Her face. The way she seemed to radiate loss and sadness even though she had no way of knowing before she walked through the door what she was going to find. Her eyes. They were the color of a storm laden sky, clouds heavy with rain and laced with lightning. They held a banked and bitter fire. She had known hurt and heartache. He didn't know how he knew that about her, but he felt the truth of it. That fleeting moment imbedded itself in his memory, pushing all others aside. Something like hope flickered within him, unexpected and unwelcome. He didn't want the distraction that this unknown girl offered. He didn't need it.

Still, there was something about her that called out to something in him…that demanded an answer. This was new, foreign, and strange. He'd never felt anything like it. There was something about her that drew him…a moth to a flame. The possibility of burning his wings held him back; reined him in. She was a complication. That didn't stop him from wondering. What put that lost look in her eyes? Would he ever know even if he got the chance to ask? Wounds like that ran deep and the reasons for them were rarely talked about.

He headed for the bedroom, pulling his t-shirt over his head as he went. He showered, changed, and climbed between the sheets before shutting off the lamp. The room was immediately swathed in darkness. The cool cotton of the pillow soothed him, pulled him into the nebulous place between waking and sleep. His last thought before sliding into the abyss was of a swinging braid and of mist colored eyes.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Katniss straightened, knuckling her back and rubbing the back of her neck tiredly. SID collected their findings, tagged them, and sorted them into the proper containers for transport to the lab. Finnick gave her a small salute before he pushed through the doors, a heavily laden box cradled in his arms. She sighed as she considered the sheer amount of stuff they'd gathered. The fingerprints alone would take weeks to sort out. They would have to get a set of prints from each employee on shift that day, every supplier who had access to the immediate area, as well as samples of uniforms, linens, and packing/storage materials. Most of it would be useless in the final outcome of the case. The high-profile nature demanded that they take every precaution and explore every practical lead. It was hard to keep the investigation moving forward when faced with such obstacles. Katniss was determined to keep momentum. Another of Cray's sayings was that a case was like a shark. It had to keep moving or it drowned.

Gale met her at the front counter, his brows knotted together. She gave him an inquiring look, and got a disgruntled huff by way of reply. "What? Don't tell me that you're already in rebel mode on this. We have to work it by the numbers, Gale. No hotshot, cowboy antics. There are too many eyes on us now. We can't afford any mistakes."

He grunted, his eyes straying to the ring of reporters still clustered behind the tape. "Vultures," he grumbled. "I fucking hate this, Catnip. Feels like we're working in a damned fishbowl."

She nodded, eyes sweeping the room around them. Seeing no one close by, she muttered, "I've got a bad feeling about this one. Too much attention and too many irons in the fire."

Gale sidled closer, his head almost touching hers. "We've managed to keep the painting out of the limelight so far. That's our ace in the hole."

"Find the materials and link it to the crime and we have a homerun. We have to figure out how he's choosing them. If we can do that, we can get a decent profile together. Do that and we can anticipate his next move and then we'll put the bastard behind bars where he belongs."

"So how do you want to play this?" Gale's expression shifted to one of intense concentration. She recognized it as his hunting face. He was working out a plan, thinking of ways to spin what they already knew into a trap to catch a killer. Give him enough time and he would put it together. Snares had been his specialty when they were kids, hunting and fishing instead of the usual juvenile antics most their age participated in. He had toyed around with joining the military but decided against it. Surprisingly, he chose the police academy instead. He wanted to make a difference but in his own way. He wanted to work in an arena where the lines weren't drawn in indelible ink.

Katniss shrugged, her attention on the diener who had wrapped and bagged the body and was in getting it ready for transport. His movements were deliberate and controlled with no wasted motion. "I think we need to focus on the potential victim pool. We need to get the word out and raise awareness. We know who his likely targets are. We just have to figure out the common thread between them."

He nodded slowly, eyes already weighing and measuring possible avenues. "We have to look at what we know. Is there a customer that frequented all three places or a common supplier? Did the girls know each other? Is there a connection between the restaurants? There are a million scenarios that would fit, Katniss, and we have to narrow it down."

This was familiar territory. They fell into their assigned roles by rote. He asked the leading questions, she tracked answers as she would game in the woods. Her intuition shaped and molded by his reason. It made them excellent hunting partners then and now. She had followed him, at his urging, into the academy. His long-time girlfriend, Johanna, also signed up. Johanna's reasons for becoming a cop differed significantly from theirs. The uncle that raised her had retired from the force after thirty years of service. She'd grown up living and breathing it. It was in her blood. Katniss hadn't considered the job until she saw the view from the other side of the fence. Her only friend, other than Gale, had disappeared in the spring of their senior year. Madge left home after saying a hurried goodbye to her mother but never made it to school. Three days later, her mutilated body was found in a ravine thirty miles from home. The killer had never been caught. Katniss couldn't forget how hollow she felt when her mother broke the news. Madge was the closest thing she had to a sister. It felt as if she'd lost part of herself, and never gotten it back. She couldn't help but think of her friend with every new case, wondering about what could have been had things gone differently. That, unfortunately, was something she would never know.

"Let's start simple. Where does he find them?" She questioned.

He rummaged through his briefcase and pulled out a file. Inside, there was a map with the two earlier locations marked. He studied it closely before adding a new ex for Sae's. She heard his swift intake of breath and bent to look for herself. The three symbols clustered around a neighborhood known simply as the Hob. It sprawled over a thirteen block radius and centered on a pocket-sized park named after a character from a popular series written by a hometown girl. Mockingjay Park was something of a byword in the department. During the day, it was filled with families and seniors. After dark, the seedier side claimed it for their own. Every night, deputies were called out to deal with disorderly teens, indigents sleeping on benches, or drunks haunting the paths and walkways. It wasn't the worst part of town by any means but it was also not a place you wanted to be once the sun went down.

"Hell and fire," she breathed. "He's a local. He has to be close, Gale. He knows the lay of the land. He takes his time and studies them before making his move. He's in the open when he does his thing. He kills them, paints them up, and then disappears. He couldn't stay out of sight unless he was familiar with his surroundings."

"So we need to canvas the local restaurants, bars and pubs," Gale announced unnecessarily. "Ask around. Somebody has to have seen something out of the ordinary. We have our fucking haystack, Catnip. Now we just have to find the needle."

She felt the blood in her veins speed up with the realization that they were closing in. The dim, shadowy figure in her mind started to take shape. He was becoming real to her. The closer she got; the more tangible he would become. "I'll start making the rounds first thing tomorrow. We'll need to put a list together so I can keep track of them. Let's call it in so that we can get a plan put together. Boggs will want to put more boots on this one. It's time to get off our asses and start knocking on doors."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

The next morning, Captain Boggs called them together. His ruddy features tended toward sternness but they could see satisfaction rolling off him in waves. Progress had been made. They had ground to cover but they weren't going in blind. The Doll maker had marked his territory. Now, they needed to find him before he killed again.

"I have a list of all the businesses in the designated area that fit our profile. We're going to divide up into four teams and get them knocked out as quickly as possible. The list is divided up by neighborhoods. Each of you will have a three block radius to cover. Leave no stone unturned. There is a clue out there. Go find it. Everdeen, you and Mason will cover Lavinia through Pollux. Hawthorne, you and Beetee will take Snow through Heavensbee. Odair, you and Leeg will take Cressida through Portia. Last but not least, Brutus and Gloss will take Venia through Trinket. Stick with your partners, call it in if you run into trouble, and watch your six. Our guy could be anywhere."

The teams gathered up their pages and compared notes before heading out. Johanna blew Gale a hurried kiss before he ducked out of the squad room with Beetee trailing behind, shaking his head at their display. "Okay," she said once the commotion had died down. "How many dumps do we have to trudge our way through before we can call it a day?"

Katniss let out a low laugh as she scanned the page in her hand. "Looks like we got off light, Jo. Gale and Beetee had at least ten. We only have seven and one of those can be scratched off because he's already been there." Johanna looked slightly more cheerful so Katniss continued, "Three cafes, two bars, and a bakery. It should be relatively simple. They're all fairly small; no more than eight to ten employees each."

"Let's go to the bakery first," Johanna decided. "I skipped breakfast and could really go for some freshly made carbs now."

Katniss shrugged and fished her keys out of her pocket before heading for the door. "Sounds good to me. I skipped breakfast this morning too. A doughnut and coffee sounds like heaven."

Johanna nodded amiably, "Well, let's get to it then. What's this place called anyway?"

Katniss pulled out her sheet and scanned the names before answering, "Mellarks," she answered. "Owned and operated by Peeta Mellark." She snorted under her breath. "Peeta…that's rich." Johanna threw her a questioning look. She rolled her eyes and explained, "Peeta, pita. He's a baker who's named after bread. Get it?"

Johanna shrugged, "That means he must be good at his job, right?"

"It means nothing," Katniss growled. "Let's get this damned show on the road."

"Yes let's do that," Johanna returned. "I'm hungry."

Katniss groaned but followed her out the door. She had the feeling that today would give them a new handle on the case. She felt a clock ticking in her head, counting down the minutes until she had the Doll maker in her sights. Then she would put him where he belonged…behind bars.

End Part 2…


	3. Lost Light

 

Chapter 2: Lost Light

_"Somehow he would see, that there was lost light in all places of darkness and that if he found it, it would save him." ~~~~Harry Bosch, as written by Michael Connelly in Lost Light_

Mellark's Bakery was a graceful two-story building on the corner of Pollux and Seneca. The surrounding neighborhood looked like a postcard with its wrought iron and flower laden window boxes. In those picturesque surroundings, the plain façade of the bakery made it distinctive. The only nod to the artistic sensibilities of the rest of the street was a dark blue awning and the name written in elegant scrollwork on the big display window.

The parking lot was half-filled at this hour, showing that business might not be booming but was steady enough to call for the five employees listed on the bakery's LinkedIn profile. Katniss slid the standard issue Crown Vic into an empty space and stared at the rows of elaborately decorated cakes in the display. Johanna whistled under her breath, her brows lifting nearly to her hairline.

"Obviously, Bread Boy does know what he's doing. Those look too pretty to eat. I'd almost swear that those flowers are real." She shook her head in disbelief. "How the hell do they do that?"

Katniss side-eyed her and couldn't resist the snarky reply that rose to her lips. "Why don't we go in and you can ask him yourself."

Johanna rolled her eyes, gave Katniss an impolite one-fingered salute, and threw the car door open. "Since you're being a smart ass, you can buy breakfast." Her smug grin was contagious. Katniss couldn't help the answering smile that quirked her lips upward. She shrugged noncommittally and followed Johanna into the heaven-scented bakery.

The warm air was redolent with spices and heavy with sugar and yeast. Katniss couldn't stop herself from breathing deeply, holding it, and then letting it out slowly. She wanted to drink it with a straw, gobble it up by the spoonful. She spared Johanna a quick glance from the corner of her eye and almost laughed at the woman's bewildered expression. The heady aroma of rising dough, baking bread, and the warm bite of cinnamon tinged with a hint of brown sugar were overwhelming.

A smallish girl grinned at their reactions from behind the counter. Her dark blue polo and visor accentuated the cornflower blue of her eyes and gave a sheen to the long tail of honey blonde hair falling down her back. "Welcome to Mellarks," she murmured. "I'm Prim Mellark. How can I help you?"

Johanna stepped forward with an outstretched hand while the other nimbly removed her wallet from her jacket pocket. She held it up, letting the girl get a good look at the badge and accompanying photo before answering. "We'd like to ask you a few questions, Miss Mellark. We'd also like to speak with any female employees that are on shift. It's very important."

Prim's smile faded, her eyes taking on a worried cast as she looked from Johanna to where Katniss stood, silently watching the exchange. "Of course, Detective," she replied. "We'll help in any way that we can. It's only me and Posy today out front. My brother is in the back. Please excuse me and I'll go get them."

Johanna gave an acknowledging nod and smiled her thanks. "Thank you, Miss Mellark. We appreciate your cooperation." Prim's lukewarm nod pulled a puzzled frown from Johanna. She raised a questioning brow in Katniss's direction, tilting her head toward the swinging kitchen door. Katniss gave a small headshake as she let her gaze roam around the room. Something felt off. She couldn't put her finger on it.

The coifed and fussy interior was something of a shock after viewing the plain, unassuming exterior. Bistro tables of dark wood and metal were randomly placed about the airy, open room. White lacy table cloths covered them, topped with clear glass vases holding multihued blooms. Ferns and potted plants were arranged artfully in the corners and sills. The whole atmosphere was light and lively and contrived. It looked like what one would assume a bakery was supposed to look like. It was lovely to the eye but something about it set Katniss's teeth on edge. The sound of heels clicking on the tile pulled her eyes away from the studied tangle of plants toward the half doors that led to the kitchen.

The amiable blonde returned, followed closely by a tiny brunette dressed similarly in a navy blue smock and visor. Her chestnut hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail that hung to the middle of her back. They approached the waiting pair, an unexplained tension clear in the thin white lines of their mouths. Johanna held her arms out loosely, hands splayed at her side.

"Please don't be alarmed. We're just here to ask some questions," she said soothingly. "Nothing more than that."

The two exchanged glances, their faces still taut with worry. Their eyes danced around the bakery, avoiding Johanna's steady stare. Posy visibly recoiled when her eyes met Katniss's. Johanna gestured silently toward the nearest table and waited until they had taken their seats before pulling out a chair. Katniss let Johanna take the lead, choosing instead to wander aimlessly around the bakery. It was a quaint place, if a little frilly for her taste. It reminded her of the old-fashioned ice cream parlors, minus the chrome and vinyl booths. She caught snatches of the ongoing conversation, turning now and then to look at the two girls. They decided to play the story as straight as they could without giving crucial information away. The knowledge of the painted faces was confined to a select few despite the media circus surrounding the case. The signature, however, had been kept under wraps. That bit of evidence would put the last knot in the noose the killer had made for his own neck. God himself couldn't save the bastard once they were able to find him.

"This visit is to make sure that the community is aware of what's going on and that people are taking precautions," Johanna repeated the adage in reply to a sotto voce question from Prim. "We want to emphasize the importance of using common sense rules to keep you safe, Miss Mellark. You are aware of what's been going on in the area. I'm sure you've seen it on the news and in the papers. There are a lot of rumors floating around. We want to give you as many of the facts as we can so that you know what to do in the event that a situation arises."

The two girls exchanged another of the looks that had passed between the two since the conversation began. Katniss couldn't help but be curious. She continued to make her way around the bakery, stopping to inspect a collection of antique postcards that had been attractively framed. She looked as if she had no part in the discussion across the way when in fact; she took in every word and gesture. Something was definitely not right.

"What sort of things are you talking about?" Prim asked hesitantly. "I took a rape defense course in school. They taught us how to do a lot of stuff if we were ever attacked. Is that what you mean?"

Johanna nodded, a friendly smile that lit her face making her seem much less intimidating than her usual flint edged stare. She gave Prim an approving look to go along with the grin. "It's very similar to that Miss Mellark. The RAD courses focus on what to do if you are attacked. These are just some hard and fast ways to try to keep it from happening in the first place. Stuff like having somebody with you at all times, especially when working late. Don't walk anywhere alone. If you notice suspicious activity, you should call the police immediately and get to a busy area where there are other people. The most important thing is not to panic. Being able to keep your head can and does save lives."

Posy swallowed noisily and twined her fingers together tightly on the table top. The knuckles were stiff and white. "So it's true," she whispered. "The stuff that we've heard about is true. There's a guy killing girls in the Hob. He's really out there."

Katniss chose that moment to break her silence. "It's real." She crossed the room and took the last remaining chair. "It's real and it's scary. That's why we're here, Posy. We need your help. It's the only way we're going to stop this guy before it happens again." She leaned forward to emphasize her point. "We're up to three and we don't think he's going to stop unless we catch him. Will you help us?"

Prim stared at her wordlessly, her mouth hanging open. She started to speak, but just as quickly bit her tongue. Katniss couldn't help but notice the way her hands clenched and unclenched on the lacy tablecloth. Prim caught the direction of her gaze and glared at the wrinkles she'd left. "What would we have to do?" She finally asked. "How does this work?"

Katniss's eyes narrowed as she watched the petite blonde. She chose her words with care as she seemingly turned her attention back to the front window display. Those cakes really were something. She found it difficult to believe that something so beautiful and lifelike could be made from sugar and flour. They were pieces of art and, as Johanna had so aptly pointed out, too pretty to eat. "We're asking the community to keep their eyes open and to call the special hotline we've set up if they notice anything out of the ordinary." She gave Johanna quick look and smiled to herself as the woman picked up the explanation mid-sentence.

"We have leads and are working every tip that comes in," Johanna asserted. "Every new tidbit leads us to another piece of the puzzle. Eventually, it will lead us home."

Katniss abandoned the chair to look at the artwork that graced the walls. There were the obligatory nature scenes and unimaginative faux European prints in keeping with the flavor of the neighborhood. There were a few scattered here and there that she couldn't help but give a second look. The lines were more refined, the details more elegant, the colors more subtle. She paused before one depicting a flower strewn meadow. The flowers seemed oddly familiar in the shape of the petals and arrangement of the blossoms. She tapped her lips thoughtfully, half-turning to take a quick look around the bakery before it dawned on her. The cakes. The painting was done by the same hands that had crafted the cakes in the window. A feminine chuckle at her elbow pulled her head around to meet Prim Mellark's amused gaze.

"You have a good eye," Prim enthused. "Not many people notice it. I think an art professor who came in to pick up his daughter's birthday cake was the last one. Peeta duplicated the wildflower design from that painting in the cake. The guy couldn't believe it. He insisted on taking a picture of the cake with the painting."

Katniss smiled at the story and waved her hand, taking in the bakery. "I've never seen anything like it. Johanna and I decided that they are too pretty to eat. It just wouldn't be right."

"That's a shame," a new voice interrupted. "They're made to be enjoyed."

Katniss wheeled, instinctively reaching for her gun. She caught herself just in time, choosing instead to wrap her hand around her braid to stop the tremors that spasmed her fingers. Startled blue eyes followed the movement before locking on her face. An unexpected flicker of what could only be recognition strobed in the azure depths. His face flushed, eyes alternately trained on her before darting away. He shot his sister a quelling look to deter the sudden onslaught of giggles before commenting gruffly, "Cakes are for eating, not to be looked at. That defeats the purpose."

She didn't know what she thought a baker was supposed to look like but this wasn't it. In fact, he was the antithesis of everything she expected. Katniss didn't know what to make of it. She'd anticipated older, heavy-set, possibly doused in flour and frosting. Instead, he was broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. Ashy blonde curls fell in waves around his ears and brushed the collar of his navy blue Mellark's polo. She scowled as those sky blue eyes met hers again. Contacts, she decided. They had to be contacts. Nobody had eyes that color.

"I don't think she meant it as an insult, Peeta." Prim scolded. "You don't have to sound so fierce."

It was almost amusing how quickly crimson flooded his cheeks. He muttered a reply under his breath that Katniss didn't catch, but Prim understood him perfectly. She laughed, poked him affectionately in the rib, and waved hands dramatically. "I give up. You're right, big brother, and I'm wrong. Of course, she was insulting you. How could I have missed it?"

The teasing, playful tone spoke volumes about their relationship. Katniss bit back a smile at the meaningful glares and wide-eyed innocent looks that passed between the two. She decided the most diplomatic way to break the stalemate was to divert their attention. Besides, she had five more businesses to visit and had already handed Johanna more than enough ammunition with that unhurried perusal of the baker to make the rest of her day hell. Pulling out her ID, she flipped it open and practically shoved it under his nose.

"I'm Detective Katniss Everdeen, Mr. Mellark. My partner and I came by to ask a few general questions and to ask for the help of local businesses with an ongoing investigation." She trailed off as his expression darkened. That feeling of something being off set off a warning bell in the back of her mind. It only grew louder when Prim said her brother's name softly and stroked his arm in a soothing way. The man's prominent jaw further hardened as he gritted his teeth, the sky blue of his eyes becoming dull and leaden. Katniss threw a glance over her shoulder and caught Johanna's narrow-eyed squint. She felt it too. "I know this kind of thing often makes people uncomfortable, especially if you don't deal with it on a daily basis," Katniss said softly. "We only want eyes and ears. That's all. We're not asking for citizens to become personally involved. Information is all that we are after."

He shook his head, blinking slowly as if coming out of a trance. He unconsciously wet his lips as his eyes flicked from her to Johanna and back again. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I saw the news last night. It just shook me up. I know Sae. She was a friend of my father's when he ran the bakery. She's been a customer since before I was born." He ran a hand through his already disheveled curls. "It's…Sae has to be devastated. She treats the people who work for her like family. This is going to kill her."

Katniss divided a sympathetic look between the two Mellarks. Prim's eyes flooded with tears, but she stayed focused on her brother, her hand moving unceasingly up and down his arm. "I'm very sorry. I know this must be difficult for you. It's not an easy thing even when you don't know the people involved. It's tough and coming to the realization that there will more make it even more painful. That's why we need your help, yours and others in the neighborhood. It's the only way we're going to end this quickly. We need every minute."

Peeta gave her an odd look, but didn't comment further. Posy, however, spoke up. "Won't he find out if we help? That could make him mad. What could we do then? How could we keep him from coming here?"

Katniss opened her mouth to reply but stopped as Johanna took the lead once more. "Posy, the hotline is anonymous. We don't release where we get the information for just that reason. There are too many unknowns. You should do what you think best. That's the most anyone can ask of you, including us." The girl's face lost some of the taut nervousness that had been there since they'd first entered the bakery. She even offered up a tentative smile which Johanna returned wholeheartedly.

Katniss turned her attention to the others, noting that both of them seemed to have a better hold on their emotions. Peeta flushed as their eyes met, his gaze dancing away from hers. She continued to watch him as he fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, flicking glances in her direction now and then. She finally broke the silence with a question of her own. "How long have you been painting, Mr. Mellark?"

He started abruptly, looking almost shocked that she would ask. "Uh, I…that is…I went to art school after I graduated from high school. I've drawn since I was five."

Katniss gestured to the paintings. "You have a very distinct style. It shows."

He cleared his throat and nodded jerkily, "Thank you. It's just something that I do to pass the time." He hesitated, but asked almost tentatively, "Do you like art, Detective Everdeen?"

Katniss caught a glimpse of Johanna's smirk out of the corner of her eye but chose to ignore it. "I'm not really familiar with it, not the mechanics anyway. I can't draw a straight line." She smiled slightly, with a self-deprecating edge. "I've always been fascinated by things that I can't do. I've always liked music but can't play an instrument. I like art but I can barely hold a pencil upright. I wouldn't even know where to start with painting an real portrait."

Peeta's mouth turned up at the edges. "That makes sense. To be honest, I think we all do that. I like music too but I can't fathom how to play or sing for that matter. I'm horrible. People would probably pay me to shut up if they heard me."

"Oh, Katniss doesn't have that problem," Johanna said smugly. "She can stop the birds in the trees with one note." Katniss scowled at her friend, brows pulled down low to make her point. Johanna, in her typical not give a damn manner, ignored it. "But that's a story for another time. We should be going. We have several other stops to make. Thank you for your time and attention."

Katniss kept her face blank as she added her thanks to Johanna's and then followed her out the door. She glanced back, meeting those sky blue eyes one last time before the door clicked shut behind her. She was still unsettled by the odd reaction as well as the flicker of recognition so clear when he looked at her. As they walked to the car, she tried to figure out if she'd seen him before. She couldn't place him so it seemed unlikely. He wasn't someone easily forgotten. She realized that she had stood by the car for several moments and looked up to see a broad, knowing smile on Johanna's face. "Shut up," Katniss said shortly. "I don't want to hear it." She unlocked the door, hit the lock release, and climbed in before slamming the door behind her. "What the hell was that about anyway? I don't make the birds stop with one note. I never did. Besides, it's none of his damned business."

Johanna slid languidly into the passenger seat, her expression containing no hint of apology or remorse. "Get over yourself, Katniss. It's not like your singing is a state secret. You aren't bad. I don't know what you're getting so blasted huffy about. So Bread Boy knows you can sing. Big deal. He likes you. Instead of giving him the company line, you should have given him your number. Nothing says I love you from a cop like their private cell phone number."

"Shut up," Katniss repeated. "I don't want to give him my number. Quit worrying about my social life and focus on the case, Johanna. Did anything strike you as odd?"

"You mean other than all those significant looks they were trading back and forth," Johanna commented smugly. "I'm not sure what the deal is with those three but they weren't exactly happy with us being there, Bread Boy especially. He did seem rather interested in you though. In fact, he almost acted like he knew you. Have you been holding out on me, Katniss?"

"Fuck off, Jo," Katniss bit out. "Jesus Christ, get your head out of your ass. We need to concentrate on the case. Other than the odd looks, did anything seem out of the ordinary to you?"

Johanna fingered her chin thoughtfully, eyes staring blankly through the windshield as she considered the question. "Well, I didn't get to check the place as closely as you did but there were a few things that stuck out. The décor is completely off-old school ice cream parlor meets flea market art gallery. The paintings are mismatched and not because he was following a learning curve. They don't belong together."

Katniss grinned and tapped her thumbs excitedly against the steering wheel as she cut rapidly in and out of traffic. "You're right. They don't belong together." She couldn't help but laugh at Johanna's disgruntled expression. "Don't be that way. You didn't look at them as closely as I did. You had other priorities which was just as important if not more so." Katniss pulled her phone out of her pocket and slid it across the seat. Johanna lifted an inquiring brow but picked up the phone. "It should be first in the gallery. Give it a look."

Johanna flipped to the appropriate menu and toggled the photo gallery open. She tapped the first picture to enlarge it and studied it closely for several passing minutes. Her disbelieving chuckle cut through the silence like a blade. "I'll be damned, Katniss. That's a hell of a find."

"It's only on the triptych by the door," Katniss revealed. "All the others were signed with a full signature or the first letter and last name. I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw it. I almost couldn't speak when Prim Mellark commented that I had a good eye." She tapped the phone with her finger, and gave Johanna a triumphant smile. "We'll have to get it to Finnick first thing so that he can do a comparison. It looks right but we can't jump to conclusions."

"So you think the artist is signing his work," Johanna replied.

"Of course he is," Katniss retorted. "It's his masterpiece. He's proud of it. Of course the bastard is going to sign it."

"Be careful," Johanna cautioned. "It's definitely suggestive but for all we know…our perp saw the marking and took a liking to it."

"That's why I'm going back there. It's thin but it has to be checked out. I think he'll talk to me."

"Talk to you?" Johanna questioned. "You don't think they're his?"

"The triptych was in a completely different style from the others. I suppose it's possible that he could have changed over time. It's possible but unlikely. He'll be able to tell me where the painting came from. That's the million dollar question."

"It's a good excuse to see him again anyway," Johanna observed.

Katniss stared out the window, her drumming fingers beating out a rapid tattoo against the molded leather of the wheel. Her face tinted pick but she refused to meet Johanna's knowing look. She tightened her grip on the wheel until her knuckles were strained and white. The silence grew heavier as the moments dragged on. Finally, Katniss heaved a sigh and loosened her grip, shaking her hand and then opening and closing it rapidly a few times. "Shut up," she said gruffly.

Johanna's low laughter was her only reply.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO XOXOXOXOXO

Her name was Clove. Her friends would say that she was quiet and intense. She bristled at the idea that because she was small and slight, she couldn't take care of herself. Clove Matthews would never be a victim. Not until the Dollmaker made her one.

She listened to the lecture the cops gave, silently rolling her eyes as they pressed the idea home that no one was bullet proof. She sent the other girls home early and locked up, laughing at the notion of the monster under the bed. When the shadow detached itself from the wall and moved toward her, she froze. Her mouth gaped open first in surprise, then in a choked off scream. Her eyes met his as fingers found and inexorably tightened about her throat. She managed one word, one syllable before a quick snap ended her life.

"You."

End chapter 2….


	4. The Darkness Within

 

Chapter 3: The Darkness Within

_"It was about taking that dark thing that you knew was out there in the world and bringing it inside. Making it yours" ~~~Harry Bosch as written by Michael Connelly_

Seeing Finnick Odair in the SID lab was like seeing a fish sprout wings and fly. The man was eye-catching in every sense of the word. The fluorescent lights were usually harsh and unforgiving but not even the cold, blue-tinged light could make Finnick anything less than unforgivably handsome.

Katniss could admit that he was particularly easy on the eyes. Tall and lean, with coppery hair that tended toward waves and sea-green eyes that danced with humor and grace-the man was made to be fawned over. Luckily or unluckily for her, she'd never been affected by his charms. He was too pretty, too charismatic, too sure of himself at times. Katniss knew that it was a façade, a way to protect what was an easily bruised and good heart.

When he met Annie Cresta, Katniss breathed a sigh of relief. The wispy beauty saw past Finnick's pretty face to the good and decent man beyond. They met at a department function that Katniss had been reluctant to attend. Annie had come with her for moral support and to keep her and Johanna from killing each other. The three were soon joined by Gale and then Finnick, who wasted little time before turning on the charm. Unfortunately for him, Annie wasn't impressed. She'd shut him down and avoided his follow-up attempts like the plague for the rest of the evening. Katniss had taken pity on him, telling Annie that she should give him another chance. Finnick didn't waste his second chance and the two were married a short six months later. He fully admitted that he owed her one. Katniss laughed and threatened him often with outlandish demands but it was a debt she had no intentions of collecting on. Both of her friends were happy and that's all she wanted.

"I know it's trouble when I see you down here, Everdeen," he drawled, pulling off his gloves and shooting them toward the garbage can. Katniss followed the arc and smirked when they landed on the floor a few feet from the receptacle. "What do you have for me? Make it quick. The new one they found this morning has us buried. I'm going to be here until midnight as it is."

Katniss brandished her phone. "Do you have a wireless printer or do I need a USB cord to get this printed? If this is what I think it is, we might have our first lead to finding this asshole."

Finnick's brows lifted in surprise but he didn't stop to ask questions. "USB would probably be faster. The wi-fi down here is shit. Did you bring yours or do I need to hunt one down?" Katniss rummaged through her bag and finally dug a cord out of the depths. She muttered a few choice words, which made Finnick grin. She passed the phone to him and waited until he tabbed through the menus before pulling up the picture she indicated. He whistled under his breath. "Where the heck did you find this?" He hit a button and waited until the image rolled off the printer. "It looks right."

Katniss shrugged. "Johanna and I got a lead on our neighborhood canvas. This turned up out of the blue. We want to see if it is a match before we take it to Boggs. Can you do a quick comparison?"

Finnick brought up an image viewer and played with a few filters before letting out an aggravated sigh. "I don't usually mess with this stuff. Down here, we all have our own little niches to fill. You need Beetee. He does all the image comparisons. Hang on. He should be back from lunch." Finnick took the printout and headed deeper into the catacombs that made up the SID unit.

Johanna took Finnick's abandoned chair and propped her booted feet on the immaculate counter. Katniss shot her a disapproving look then turned her attention back to the computer screen. The mark was much clearer than it had been on the small screen of her phone. She bent closer, tracing the lines with her finger. "It looks like a letter or an initial. I can't make it out. It's not shaped like it would be on a page. It almost looks like a tattoo. You know what I mean? Whenever someone has a name tattooed on, they always pick either blocky lettering or a curly, rolling variant. It's strange. I'd almost swear that this was a letter. I just can't make out which one."

Johanna dropped her feet to the floor and bent toward the screen. "Tattoo lettering, huh? That's as good a guess as any. It looks like a hieroglyph to me, that wonky picture script that they had to find the rock to be able to read it."

Hiding a smile behind her hand, Katniss coughed back a bark of laughter. "You mean the Rosetta Stone?

Johanna looked confused but shrugged noncommittally. "Whatever. You know what I mean though. They had a picture or symbol for everything. That looks kinda like those symbols."

It was Katniss' turn to look thoughtful. She bent to the monitor again, studying the image intently. "I suppose. I don't really spend a lot of time studying up on that stuff." She gave her friend an appraising look. "I didn't think it was something that piqued your interest either. You really do learn something new every day."

Johanna smirked. "Don't stress out too much over it. I'm not that interested. It was Gale and his damned obsession with the History Channel. He watched a marathon of ice Road Truckers or something. He fell asleep on the couch and I was too damned lazy to get up to find the remote. I left it on mainly for noise. Anyway, it was all about ancient Egypt and mummies and thousand-year old buildings. They kept showing those pictures. I guess it stuck with me."

Katniss laughed under her breath. "Okay then. Fair enough." She impulsively hit print and watched impatiently as the paper idled into the tray. She picked up it up and gave it another look, blowing out an irate breath. "I just wish that Finnick would hurry up already. I want to get moving on this if there's something there. This is the first real lead we've had."

As if saying his name conjured him up, Finnick ducked back into the lab. Trailing behind was a pale, thin man with sparse dark hair and thin wire-rimmed glasses. He peered over them at the two women waiting expectantly. In his hands, he held the printout. Finnick gestured unnecessarily, "Katniss, Johanna, I don't know if you've ever met Horace Beecham. We call him Beetee for short. He's going to take a look at this and let us know if you ladies struck gold or not."

Johanna gave a friendly nod while Katniss held her own copy close as she extended her other hand to the man, who eyed it warily before taking it. "Finnick said that you found the subject while canvasing the suspected hunting ground." He waited for her nod before continuing. "I wouldn't have expected it to be displayed so publicly. I've found that the signatures are very personal for these guys. It's not something that you would find hanging on the wall in a restaurant so to speak." He gave a small smile as both Katniss and Johanna winced. "Not usual but not unheard of. Now, let's see what we have." He pulled a transparency from the binder Finnick handed him and laid it side by side with the print out. He mumbled under his breath and turned to the keyboard. The rest of them were soon at a loss as he applied filters, zoomed in on specific areas while backing out on other sections. "Got to clean it up and let the program do its work," he muttered before hitting the print button once more.

"Did you find something?" Finnick questioned.

Beetee took the new image and put it beside the other two lying on the table. He used a felt tip pen to tick off a few points on both sheets. "I think I did," he announced a few moments later. "I'm sorry to say that they aren't exact." Katniss let out a disappointed sigh while Johanna's response was decidedly less ladylike. Her bit off epithet caused Beetee's brows to lift in surprise. "That's not to say that they aren't a match but not an exact one. The signature has been modified and refined somewhat but what you have discovered does seem to be a very early incarnation." He gestured to the marks he'd made earlier. "These show the similarity. The arc at the top of the symbol, the feathering on the down stroke, the tightness and control of the overall figure are all indicative that it was done by the same hand. The earlier version also allows me to firm up one of our assertions about our killer. He's definitely left-handed. You can see from the way the brush strokes are formed that the artist was using his left hand. Up until now, we only had bruising patterns on the second victim's neck to go by. The signature itself didn't really allow us to draw any definite conclusions. This, however, is very helpful."

Katniss felt her hackles rise at the reference to victim two. "Effie Trinket," she bit out. Three pairs of eyes locked on her questioningly. "Her name is Effie Trinket," Katniss mumbled, feeling a flush heat her cheeks. "Sorry but I don't like not using their names. It's not right. They're people, dammit. They deserve to be remembered that way and not as victim one or five or whatever. That just lets the bastard take one more thing from them. I won't give him that."

Beetee peered at her over his glasses as if being confronted with a new specimen, something he'd never met before. Katniss felt her face warm once again but chose not to comment further. The man's pale eyes bore into her as if seeing far more of her than she wanted to display. He gave her a last look before gesturing to the grouping of pictures. "We've run it through the box trying to ascertain the meaning but we came up dry. There were a few hits based on stylistic comparisons but nothing definitive. The closest we have is the Egyptian hieroglyph for a phoenix. Is there any reason to suspect that our killer would be well-versed in an obscure symbolic language?"

"No," Johanna said in self-satisfied tones. "No reason whatsoever." Giving Katniss a smug look, she turned back to the two men who were watching the exchange with interest. "How close was the signature to the phoenix hieroglyph? We might have a lead but we need to know if this is a line of questioning that's worth pursuing."

Beetee studied the three printouts before answering, "The probability hit around the seventy-eighth percentile. Not enough to be conclusive but highly suggestive. I would look for other artwork that has a similar influence. It's thin but it does give us something to go on."

Katniss chimed in, "Were there any other hits, Beetee? Anything at all?"

The man studied her closely. He hesitated before he answered, clearly choosing his words with care. "There was nothing of note, Katniss. Obviously, there was a superficial resemblance to letters of the alphabet written in certain fonts. That seems unlikely though considering the sophistication of the crime. It can't be discounted completely, however. The most intelligent criminal has been known to overlook a small detail that, in hindsight, was the lynchpin in closing the case. What are your thoughts?"

Katniss leaned over the counter, her nail tracing the lazy loops and curves of the transparency. It was the one detail that they'd kept under lock and key. She kept her attention fixed firmly on the symbol as she let her mind work the angles. It was right there, the key to catching this guy. Right there if she could just get it locked down. She could feel it. "He's been watching us all along, definitely since Effie Trinket was discovered. That's when the first headlines calling him the Doll maker hit. Up until then, we weren't treating it like a serial. The scenes were locked down pretty tight and we secured the witnesses before the press got wind. Those two idiots from the medical examiner's office almost let the cat out of the bag. They called them kewpie dolls. We came down on them like a ton of bricks but both swore that they'd only used the term with each other.

The short version is that the media picked up on the term and christened our perp as the Dollmaker. He's starting to take more chances, becoming bolder. We know that he's familiar with them before he takes them down. He knows their hours, when they're alone, and how long he has before they're likely to be discovered. He cut it close to the wire with Rue. She closed up and was there alone for barely a half hour before he made his move. Sae always comes by at the same time to balance the receipts and count the drawers out. He knew and he killed her anyway. He's watching and waiting for us to pick up on the breadcrumbs he's left us. We have to do this."

Finnick nodded in agreement. "It's been the consensus in the lab that the guy is monitoring our investigations. The fact that he was doing something to the faces came to light after the second victim was discovered." He smirked in Katniss' direction but continued on. "I think Katniss is right. He's starting to feel the stress. The time period between the third and fourth was only a few days. It had held steady around the thirty day mark. He's starting to become more erratic. We can't hold to the previous timeline and there's too much pressure to get this thing solved. Something's going to give. We have to do everything in our power to solve this before him kills again."

"So we focus on the signature and run this lead to ground," Johanna announced. "Our Katniss already has a plan to make some inroads. I think that's our best bet. I can hang out on the corner if she needs somebody to hold her hand." Her lips turned up in a mischievous grin. "While she's sweet talking the bread boy, I'm gonna grab some books on hieroglyphs and broaden my horizons. I freaking knew Gale's penchant for reality TV would pay off eventually.."

"Johanna, for fuck's sake, would you shut up about Peeta Mellark already," Katniss groaned. "I'm not going to 'sweet talk the bread boy' as you so crassly put it. I'm going to have a friendly conversation about art and see what comes up. That's all. Keep your damned insinuations to yourself."

Beetee coughed uncomfortably and swept the documents into a pile, mumbling something about having to get back to work as he quickly left the room. Finnick, however, looked anything but innocent as he cradled his chin in an upturned palm and said blithely, "Peeta Mellark? Who or what is a Peeta Mellark and how has he managed to get so far under Everdeen's ironclad skin.

"Don't you worry about it," Katniss snapped. "The only thing that should concern you is whether Boggs will agree that seventy-eight percent is good enough to warrant going after this."

Finnick fingered his chin thoughtfully. "It's the best that we've found so far. I'd say we need to run with it." He peered from one to the other, his curiosity clearly getting the better of him. "Is this Peeta Mellark a suspect? Is that why you don't want to talk about him? You want to get your facts together before putting him under the magnifying glass?"

"No," Katniss said quickly, too quickly. Her cheeks bloomed with vivid color. "There's nothing yet to connect him to any of the victims. He knows Sae through the bakery. He didn't paint the picture that has the signature. The styles are completely different."

Finnick nodded slowly. "So you're discounting that he could have seen the symbol, liked it, and then decided that it would make the perfect final touch to his magnum opus? I haven't met the guy but it seems a bit hasty to cross him off the list so soon."

She steepled her fingers, tapping her lips with the twined digits. "I don't believe it's him. It's too pat, Finn. Why would he have it hanging in the bakery for the world to see if he's marking his victims with it? It's not the Doll maker. He doesn't make stupid mistakes. I know he's becoming bolder and taking more chances but this move is too in your face. He's not going to make it that easy for us."

"I think you're letting him off too easy."

Johanna chuckled. "I think she just wants to check out the merchandise."

Katniss shot her most intimidating glare at the pair before shoving her phone into the front pocket of her jeans and stalking toward the door. "Don't be so huffy, Everdeen." Finnick's voice followed her. "I'm not trying to bust your chops. I'm just looking at the overall picture. Boggs is going to ask the same questions and he will want more than a 'I don't think it's him' from you. Put in the time and make sure you're right. Too much is riding on the outcome."

She stopped with her hand on the door and looked back over her shoulder, gray eyes calm and steady. "I'll do my damned job, Finnick. I'm here to solve the case just like you. Every time he kills, it means that I've failed. I owe it to them to give it everything I've got. Anything less is unacceptable." She gave a small head shake and pushed through the door. Johanna's quiet voice halted her step.

"You don't owe them anything, Katniss. You'll give it everything you've got because that's who you are. That's the way you work. It's not because you owe anybody anything. You can't think like that."

Katniss closed her eyes, unwilling to let the tears burning behind her lids fall. She sucked in a few deep breaths to until she steadied. "I'm going to talk to him. Hopefully he'll tell me where the portrait came from. If he painted it, then that's that. Until then, I can only go with what my gut tells me. Right now, it's telling me that he's not the guy."

"Hang on," Johanna called. "I'll come with you."

Her only answer was the sound of the door's muffled thud against the jamb as it closed behind the infuriating woman.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The big display window was resplendent with autumnal shades of orange, sable, and gold. She sat in the car, staring fixedly at the display while trying to remember how it looked on her first visit. The only detail she could bring to mind was alternating shades of pink from pale as a baby's skin to deep rhubarb. It was an impressive feat. The display held at eight cakes of varying sizes, each one beautifully decorated. There was a score or more of cupcakes featuring a different tint and a complimentary color. Stripes, dots, waves, berries, flowers and beads. It evoked ripened fields and crisp mornings. Katniss couldn't believe flour and sugar could be coaxed into art but she couldn't doubt what was right in front of her eyes. She fortified herself with a deep breath that she let out slowly before exiting the car.

The froufrou trill of the door bell announced her entry. She was caught up in the dichotomy of the austere exterior in comparison to the mishmash of the interior. The colorful blooms were gone, replaced by artfully arranged cornucopias overflowing with pumpkins, berries, Indian corn, and leaves. The greenery from the previous day was gone. The windows were left bare while corn shocks stood sentinel in the corners. Katniss slowed and stopped, an unbidden smile curving her lips. She hadn't seen one since childhood. It was only missing straw bales and blossoming mums to match the image in her head exactly.

"You came back," the silky smooth voice intruded on her reverie.

Her startled gaze flicked to the bemused expression Peeta Mellark turned her way. He offered up a hesitant smile. "I had a few more questions and hoped that it wouldn't be too much trouble if I dropped by. I figured the morning rush was over by now." She held out her hand and felt her breath catch as he clasped it firmly. "I'm Katniss Everdeen, by the way. I wasn't sure if you'd remember me."

White teeth flashed as he grinned disarmingly but instead of putting her at ease, a tremor danced down her spine. She shook her head, silently berating herself for her lack of focus. She was here for a reason and it wasn't to be to be sidetracked by the way his navy polo emphasized the width of his shoulders or the cornflower hue of his eyes. "I know who you are, Detective Everdeen. I'm just surprised to see you again so soon."

She felt her cheeks warming and sought to cover it up. "We still have a few people to talk to. Your Linkedin profile lists five employees but we only saw you, Posy, and your sister yesterday. I was hoping that the others would be here today. We're also putting together a census of the neighborhood. We would like a clear picture of the businesses and residences. It could be very helpful."

He gestured to the closest bistro and took the seat opposite as she sat down. "I don't understand the part about the census but if you say it will help, I won't argue. You're in luck because both Vick and Ti are here today. Do you want to talk to them at the same time or separately?'

She made a note on the notepad she took from her pocket. "Uh, we can do it all at once. I don't want to hold you up. I just have a few brief questions for you if you don't mind."

He shrugged, his hands making graceful arcs in the air. "Sure. Yeah. Ask whatever you want."

Katniss relaxed in her chair, chewing thoughtfully on her bottom lip. "The outside of the bakery is fairly plain in comparison to the rest of the neighborhood. Every business has made an effort to stand out except for you. I'm curious about why you decided to go that route."

The easy smile stayed in place but there was a tightness present that hadn't been there before. He folded his hands on the table, eyes unconsciously darting around the bakery before coming to rest on her. "My father bought the building and started the bakery. He wanted the products to take center stage. He wanted it kept simple. I didn't want to change that." He looked around the airy room. "My stepmother had other ideas after he died. She confined her decorating to the storefront. Now that Prim and I run the bakery, we're slowly making changes."

"And the artwork?" Katniss questioned lightly. "I know some of them are yours. I'm curious about the rest of them."

"All of them are by neighborhood artists," Peeta commented, his brow furrowed curiously. "There is a street fair every fall. The locals have outdoor stalls to showcase their stuff. We have live music, food, arts and crafts. It's pretty typical but everyone enjoys it. I got the idea last year to display some of the artwork in the bakery. It's mostly paintings and watercolors. There are some drawings that we had matted and framed. The planters are handmade and hand painted."

She smiled slightly. "I didn't know about that. I love that kind of stuff. You guys should advertise." She pushed back from the table and walked to the closest wall. The artwork ran the gamut from amateur to lovely. She easily picked out a pastoral landscape done by Peeta. Her gaze noted the small, neat signature in the corner. A montage of kid's drawings in crayon and chalk had been grouped together and then put under glass. "This is lovely," she murmured. "It's fantastic that you have them out so that they can be enjoyed." She spotted the stylized mark on another small canvas, this one portraying a dandelion losing it's seeds to a freshening wind. There was something about the painting that drew her in other than the elusive sign. She wasn't aware that she'd gone silent as her eyes followed the simple lines.

"It's one of my favorites," Peeta said softly behind her. "It's melancholy and hopeful at the same time."

"Did you paint it?" Katniss held her breath, awaiting his answer.

He surprised her by hesitating briefly before commenting. "Yes and no. I have painted a dandelion but not this one. I roughed in the lines of a bunch of canvases then let people choose the picture they wanted to finish."

"Well, it's beautiful," she said softly. "The lines are so real. They seem to leap off the page." She meandered slowly around the room, seeing the decor with new eyes. "How do you name the individual artists?" She asked idly. "I don't see tags or plates."

Peeta watched her carefully, his unease written in the taut lines of his face. "There are tags on the back. We keep them up until it's time for the fair again. The artist can pick up their work then if they want. Otherwise, it stays here and we switch them out."

"According to the season," Katniss observed.

"Yes," Again, a sun-bright smile lit up his face. "We use a lot of seasonal ingredients. My sister likes to highlight that as well as holidays. Eventually, the only thing that will stay the same is the paint color and the furniture. It can be a lot of work but it really shows what we do here."

He nodded briefly to emphasize his point and then turned away. "I'll go get Vick and Ti so you can talk to them, Detective Everdeen. Excuse me."

"Mr. Mellark," she called. "One last thing. Who's in charge of the art projects? You?"

Blue eyes hardened to icy slits. He stiffened and then tried to cover it up by rubbing a hand along his jaw line before scrubbing it through his wayward curls. "No. It changes from year to year. Last year, Effie Trinket had the honors. She took care of everything."

Katniss' mouth was dry as a desert. She swallowed heavily, the name whirling madly through her mind. She watched as he disappeared into the kitchen before sinking bonelessly into the chair. Her thoughts scattered like the colorful leaves caught in a high wind. Search warrant, she thought to herself. We need to get a judge to sign off so we can move on this. Hearing voices coming closer, she straightened in her seat. Effie Trinket. Effie Trinket handled the art. Effie Trinket knew who painted the picture. That knowledge had probably gotten her killed. She'd been the worst in a parade of horrors. Katniss reined in her racing emotions and forced herself to concentrate. Once she finished up here, she had only one thing in mind. First, go back to headquarters to bring Boggs up to speed and then to Judge Paylor's chambers to ask for a search warrant. She was one step closer to the Doll maker. She could feel it.

xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxo xoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxoxox

The blackened out windows and dim purple bulbs made The Arena something of an oddity in the Hob. It wasn't a pub or a bar. It wasn't much of anything and the owner liked it that way. She didn't exactly fit in with her bright pink hair sculpted into spikes all over her head. Her gumdrop hair color when paired with her usual turquoise eye shadow and purple lipstick made Effie a sight guaranteed catch the eye of and incite whispers. Their stares lingered for longer than considered polite. Effie had long since developed a bulletproof exterior. "Fuck off" and "bite me, asshole" was her standard reply. She delivered both with practiced ease.

The Arena was open from midnight until six from Thursday through Saturday so she was surprised when she unlocked the front door and found him leaning against the counter. "What the fuck? I told you not to come back after the last time. Get the hell out or I'm calling the police."

His heavy steps echoed on the loose boards of the floor as he pushed himself off the counter. "I'll bet you say that to all the boys," he grunted sourly, coming to a stop before her. "I told you not to fuck with me. I warned you what would happen if you didn't listen. I also said it would be your last chance."

Her head reared back defiantly, eyes blazing even in the hazy purple light. "Fuck you. You don't tell me what to do. Nobody does." She gestured furiously. "This is my fucking place, you hear me. It's mine and I want you out of it."

He was exceptionally quick for his size. His solid bulk didn't limit his agility or his ability to take another by surprise. His hand twined in the fuchsia strands before she'd even registered his movement. Her head jerked instinctively in a futile attempt to dislodge his hand. He smiled as he plunged his hands deeper. "Not that easy, doll face. You won't get away like that."

She caught the flicker of something down low and strained to catch a glimpse. "What are you...don't you dare...fuck...don't."

Those dead eyes stared at her unblinking before her jerked her head upright, winding the strands around his fist to keep her still. "Oh I dare...yes, my lovely one...I dare. You'll smile for me in the end. You'll beg me to let you smile at me before this is over."

When they found her, cold and pale as marble, even the strongest had to leave the room and take deep fortifying breaths of the chill morning air. There were no words for the atrocities that had been inflicted upon her. Cray shook his head and swore he'd never seen anything like it, not in his forty years. Effie lay in a heap behind the bar, wearing only the rope that held her upright. The other end was looped and knotted around an exposed water pipe. The bloody grazes marked out how she'd twisted and torn her flesh in a futile attempt to get free. Other telltale bruises on her chest, her hip, and the inner slope of her thigh told the rest of the story. That still wasn't what gave them pause. No...not even that.

The killer had done his work but this was something new. Under the powder and paint...she smiled. Really and truly smiled. It caused even the hardest heart to clench as realization sat in. She had looked the bastard in the eye, knowing those moments were probably her last and she had smiled. It was enough to make the heavens weep.

End part 3...


	5. Fight Your Way Out

 

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 4: Fight your Way Out

_The truth does not set you free. But you can get through things. You can head toward the light and climb and dig and fight your way out. ~Harry Bosch as written by Michael Connelly_

Dimitey Paylor wasn't what one expected of a Circuit Court Judge. She was small and thin with her brown hair styled in a chin skimming bob. The woman managed to cut an imposing figure despite her unassuming appearance. Her brown eyes were so dark a hue as to seem almost black. Many defendants met that midnight gaze and went weak in the knees. They swore it was as if the devil himself sat in judgment and called for their heads in repayment for their crimes. If she had knowledge of her reputation, she didn't let on. Dimitey Paylor played her cards close to the vest. She gave nothing away therefore it was hard to anticipate how she would react to any given situation.

Katniss couldn't help but curse when told that she was the on duty judge who would check their warrant petition. Any other would be preferable. Katniss would take the matter directly to Judge Crane if given a choice. He was a pompous, somewhat comical figure who gave a lot of leeway when it came to what he called "fishing expeditions." He had little difficulty granting a search warrant on the barest hint of evidence. Paylor, however, tended to ask for the moon on a chain. She grew quite testy when she thought that her time was being wasted so it was up to Katniss and Gale to convince her otherwise.

They sat silently as the judge flipped slowly through the file, reading every word of Katniss's meticulous report. In those pages lay every shred of evidence they'd gathered, every theory and lab finding, and every interview they could throw together. It made for an impressive read but both knew what they had was smoke and mirrors. There was nothing concrete tying Peeta Mellark to the killings. It was all supposition. That's why they needed the authority to dig, to find the needle in the haystack that Gale was so convinced existed.

Paylor laid the reports aside and reached for the manila envelope containing the photos and stills. She pulled them out carefully and put them side by side for comparison. Beetee's detailed analysis was thoroughly scrutinized as she checked each finding off point by point. "This is compelling," she murmured. "I'll grant you that much but it's not exactly a smoking gun. I agree that Mr. Mellark is certainly a person of interest and we should invite him downtown for a chat. I don't follow your reasoning about why a full-scale search of his business should be allowed."

Gale leaned forward, wearing an intent expression as he geared up to make their best case. She held up a hand to forestall him as he opened his mouth. "Hold on, Mr. Hawthorne," Paylor eyed him sternly. "I already know what you're going to say. I want to hear from Detective Everdeen why she feels that we should go balls to the wall on this." Her gaze shifted to the dark-haired girl silently watching the exchange. "Katniss, you've spoken with this man twice now. What are your impressions? I've seen your fact-finding but what I want to know is what your gut tells you. Is this your guy?"

Katniss could feel Gale's hot eyes on her, urging her to tell Paylor that Peeta Mellark was their suspect.  _Do it._ He seemed to say.  _Come on, Katniss. This is what we need to crack this case wide open. Tell her yes._ Her mind worked furiously as it sorted through the myriad details of the report. Were the fragile threads they'd woven together enough for her to say beyond a reasonable doubt that he was the killer of four women? "I…uh…" Katniss stuttered, restlessly tracing the faux wood grain of her chair's arm with a close bitten nail. "I'm not convinced yet that he's the one," she reluctantly confided. "As you say, what we have so far is suggestive and we need to take a closer look. He knows the neighborhood and has ties with two of the victims. I put him through the box and other than a couple of speeding tickets in college, he came back clean. His name appeared as a side note on the police report about his father's death."

Paylor sat back and watched her over clasped hands, dark eyes weighing and measuring. "On what basis then should I grant this petition? You don't have it yet and you know it. You want me to rubber stamp this warrant so the pair of you can kick the can and see what falls out. It's not going to happen, boys and girls. Unless you have something else, I'm afraid I'm going to have to say no."

Katniss avoided Gale's angry glare, choosing instead to match the judge's steady gaze. "You're right. We don't have enough to bring charges against him. That doesn't mean that the request is fundamentally flawed. We have enough to open the door, Judge Paylor. Give us the chance to walk through it."

The Judge smiled slightly before bending over the petition and affixing her signature on the last page. She made a few other notes, initialed the addendum and then tucked it into the file before handing it back. "I'm giving you 72 hours, Detective. I'll play along for now just to see where this goes. You have limited jurisdiction to gather information about certain items of interest. I've laid out the boundaries. Make sure you respect them or I won't be so nice the next time you come before me."

Opening the file, Katniss skimmed the notes and then handed them to an impatient Gale. "Fair enough," she returned. "Thank you, ma'am."

Paylor smirked as she shrugged into her robe and waved aside a hovering clerk who came to remind her of her afternoon docket. "Don't thank me yet, Miss Everdeen. Break any of my rules, bend them in the slightest and I'll have your head for my wall. I want daily status reports and if I don't receive them, I'll rescind your authority and you and your decorative partner can take adjoining cells downstairs. Do we understand each other?"

Both Katniss and Gale nodded, although the latter was less than thrilled by the restrictions being placed upon them. He waited until they made their way through the door and across the outer office before giving vent to his feelings. "Fuck, Katniss," he exploded. "Why didn't you tell her that he's our guy? Everything leads right to his door, dammit. What more do you want, a confession?"

She whirled to face him, her gray eyes a lightning laced sky just before all hell broke loose. He took a step back, then another as she followed him, getting right up in his face so that he couldn't miss one syllable. "Listen carefully, Hawthorne, because I'm only going to say this once so you'd better catch it the first time. I won't say something that I don't mean to get a freebie from a judge. Not now and not ever. Are we clear? I know you've got a hard on at the idea of being the one to break this case but it's not gonna happen like this. We're going to go by the book, work the clues and see where they take us. Is that alright with you?"

Gale's eyes widened then narrowed as her accusations sank in. His face clouded, sparks beginning to swirl in the storm cloud gray staring back at Katniss. "I have a hard on? What the fuck, Katniss? You think I want to snow Paylor so that I can be the golden boy when this all shakes out. Who the hell do you think you are? I want to solve this case. That's it. No more, no less. You're the one not seeing clearly. You like this guy and you can't see past it. Everybody can see it but you."

They stood toe-to-toe, nose-to nose glaring at each other, neither noticing or caring about the interested gazes they were receiving. The stalemate continued until Judge Paylor walked through the door and stopped at the sight before her. "Seventy-two hours, Detectives. I would think that time could be better spent somewhere other than this hallway, yes?" Angry and flustered at the not so subtle rebuke, Katniss stood aside to allow Paylor to sweep by with a knowing smile tugging at the edges of her mouth.

"Call Johanna and Finnick," she ordered tersely. "Tell them to meet us at the bakery. We'll go over the details before we do this. I don't want anybody wandering off half-cocked. Paylor's just looking for a reason to rein us in. Let's do this right the first time because it might be our only chance."

Gale nodded shortly, already pulling out his phone. "How many uniforms do we need?"

Katniss hesitated before shaking her head, "None, Gale. It'll just be you, me, Jo and Finn. We don't need to make a freak show out of this. The neighborhood is already on edge. We know he's watching. We don't need to tip our hand."

Gale rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. He punched a button and spoke softly as he trailed her to the elevator. "They'll meet us there," he announced as he tucked his phone in an inner pocket. "How do you want to play this?"

"We'll play it straight," she stared at her feet instead of meeting his surprised look. "You're new to them so it might shake something loose if you talk to them. I can canvas the rest of the artwork while you take care of that. They know Johanna so keep her with you. Finnick can help me since he's familiar with the signature. Agreed?"

He wanted to argue the point. It was written all over him in the way his jaw flexed,and the telltale tic at the corner of his eye. Somehow, he held it in. "Let's go. The clock's ticking."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

The bakery was largely deserted when they walked in. Prim Mellark was at the counter, her expression flickering from surprise to worry and back. "Detective Everdeen, hello again. Are you here for lunch or is there something else we can help you with?"

Katniss found herself smiling at the younger girl's light tone. She should have been a diplomat and not working in a bakery because her talents were wasted here. She was a natural when it came to putting people at ease, which was a useful skill, one Katniss wished she possessed. "We're not hungry but thank you." She hesitated before pulling the folded warrant from an inside pocket and handing it over. "This is a search warrant. You'll want to read it but, in a nutshell, it gives us permission to conduct a search of the bakery. That copy is for you."

"But why," Prim's brow furrowed in confusion as she looked at the paper in her hand. "Has something happened? Why do you have to do this now?"

Katniss laid a comforting hand on the girl's arm. "Miss Mellark, Prim, the purpose of the search is outlined in the warrant. As you can see, it is laid out clearly by the judge who granted the petition. We'll only be here a short time and will make every effort to cause as little disruption as possible."

Her reassurance seemed to get through to Prim, for she nodded once as the panicked expression gave way to wary interest. "The artwork? That's what this is about. You want to see all the street fair paintings? You didn't need a warrant for that. I'm sure Peeta would be happy to show them to you."

Her sure tone made Katniss bite her lip. She couldn't show the signature without compromising a major piece of evidence. They needed complete access to the art, the receipts, and the people who participated in the street fair. The key to unravelling these murders could be hidden there. "Not just the art," Katniss disclosed. "But it's a starting point, one that has to be checked thoroughly. We won't be long."

Prim's fingers tightened involuntarily on the paper but she nodded. "Go ahead, Detective. Do whatever you need to do. I'll go get Peeta. If you have any questions, he'd be the one you need to talk to." She disappeared into the kitchen, taking the warrant with her, and leaving Katniss staring after her with a sour taste in her mouth. The whole case was starting to feel like being lost in a maze with no idea of which way to go or what you would find when you finally got to the end.

"Nice girl," a soft voice spoke teasingly at her ear. "Seems a bit vanilla though. I take it that's the sister."

Shooting him an annoyed look over her shoulder, Katniss couldn't help but marvel at Finnick's odd turn of phrase. "A bit vanilla," she repeated. "Ironic choice of words considering where we are, don't you think?"

"I don't do irony," Finnick took a slow turn around the room, stopping in front of one of the paintings to look at it more closely. He straightened, tapping his lips thoughtfully as he traced a line with the opposite hand. "This is good, really good. You can practically hear the horrible calliope music they always play at those things."

She got up and crossed to him, curious to see which one had caught his eye. It was done in the style of a pencil sketch, a carnival scene with rides and booths clustered along a boardwalk fronted by a stretch of beach. Lines and shadows delineated where the water met the shoreline. It was so real. Katniss glanced at the signature in the lower corner and smiled knowingly. "Makes me think of kettle corn and those rolls stuffed with meat and peppers. I haven't been to a fair in ages."

Finnick laughed at her wistful tone and then draped an arm over her shoulder. "Who knew that the way to fair Miss Everdeen's heart was cheap, greasy food served in cardboard tubes?"

Another voice chimed in, this one questioning but with a hint of wounded pride. "Cheap, greasy food served in cardboard. You haven't been here before if that's your opinion of us."Suddenly, he was there, blue eyes intent on her before shifting to the tall man at her side. "I'm Peeta Mellark. It's nice to see you again, Detective Everdeen. Prim tells me that you're here to look at the paintings again."

Finnick extended his hand, a ready smile already in place. "Finnick Odair. Pleased to meet you. And you're right when you said I've never been here before. It's my loss obviously."

Their hands met, their eyes appraising before Peeta turned back to Katniss. "You know it wasn't necessary to get a warrant, Detective. If you wanted to see the paintings, all you had to do was ask. We're more than happy to help in any way that we can."

A light flush stained her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor, avoiding interested looks from both men. "We appreciate your willingness to cooperate but we have protocols that we have to follow. I need to see the catalogue, the receipts, and a list of anyone who had a booth or display during the fair. Do you have access to that information? I know you weren't in charge of organizing everything but that you would need to have something on hand for those you store and display. The main purpose of the warrant is to give you a record of exactly what we need to see."

Peeta cocked his head as he considered her remarks. "I have the catalogue but that's all. The head of the neighborhood association would have the rest of it since all the proceeds are donated to them to help with maintenance and such. Haymitch Abernathy is the head of the council but Hazel Hawthorne would be your best bet. She keeps the books for Haymitch's bar along with keeping him in line. Hazel's son, Vick, works for me here in the bakery."

Finnick chimed in, "Do you think she would have a problem sharing those records?"

"I don't think so," Peeta shrugged lightly. "I could call her if you want. "

Again, Finnick smoothly deflected the offer of help into a request for more information. "If you can get me her number, I'll call her myself. I would appreciate it if you would be willing to help me fill in the blanks once we have the chance to look them over."

"Yeah, sure," Peeta acquiesced. "Whatever you need." He scribbled a number on the pad of paper resting on the counter, tore it off and handed it to Finnick with a grin. "Probably best to call her now. It's still early so Haymitch shouldn't be too deep in his cups yet. You can tell her that I told you to call if you think it will help."

Finnick took the number and nodded his thanks, already pulling out a cell phone as he headed for a quiet corner. Peeta watched him go, and then looked back at Katniss, brows raised inquiringly. "We can get started if you like. I have the catalogue listings here." He proffered a manila folder, which Katniss took and then immediately opened, her eyes moving rapidly over the pages. "Most of the paintings are still here. The ones that were sold have a tic mark beside them."

"And how does this correspond with the tags on the paintings themselves?" Katniss questioned.

He leaned over her shoulder, his breath warm on the side of her face as he tapped the page with a finger. "Each person has a number and each painting has one so if you wanted to know about the painting with the tag #2.7, then you would look at the name listed at number 2 and find the title listed as number 7. It's as simple as we could make it."

"What about the ones that you outlined beforehand and someone else finished?" She didn't look up as she continued to flip through the pages, scanning each one before she moved on. After several seconds passed and he didn't answer, she glanced up, pushing a wayward strand out of her eyes as she did. "Did you hear…" her voice trailed off, startled as she realized he'd been watching her quietly the whole time. "Mr. Mellark? Peeta?"

He blinked then, shaking his head before meeting her confused look. "What? Sorry. I think I zoned out for a minute." He rubbed his eyes tiredly before letting his lips edge up into another of those wayward grins he seemed to toss about like trinkets. "What did you ask me?"

She worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she shuffled the listing to draw his attention to it and not her. "I asked about the stuff you fixed up and then somebody else finished it. How were those listed?" She scanned through the catalogue again to confirm her findings. "I don't see you on the list at all."

"That's because I'm not," he laughed softly. "I spent most of the day in the bakery booth, handing out cookies and doing face painting. Both are a big draw for the kids. I enjoy it." Once more, those bright blue eyes focused keenly on her. "What about you, Detective Everdeen? What do you do for fun when you're not protecting the rest of us from the bad guys?" His shoulder brushed hers lightly, pointing up how close they were standing.

She leaned aside, trying not to make it noticeable or let him see that he'd managed to throw her off balance. "I shoot," she confided reluctantly. "I'm pretty good with most guns but I prefer a bow and arrow. It's harder and takes longer to do it well." When his brows lifted in surprise, she couldn't help but grin. First came the shock, then the questions, and finally the Robin Hood remarks. It followed the same pattern as surely as sunrise. She was dumbfounded when he went against the grain altogether.

"I'd imagine that you're good at almost anything you set your mind to," The corner of his mouth edged up slightly as hers dropped open. "You seem like that kind of person, I mean. The kind that isn't happy unless they excel at everything."

It was her turn to give him an ironic smile by way of reply. "I can't cook," she confessed, laughter adding a lightness to her tone. "I hate it to be honest. I am a champion take away orderer though. I have most eateries in the city that deliver on speed dial."

He took the list from her, smiling as he ruffled through them until he found what he wanted. "Here, see." He indicated a section halfway down the last page. These were marked not with number like the others but with short descriptions. "Those were all roughed out on small canvases with a few larger ones if someone really wanted a challenge. After they were done, we tagged them like the others."

"How much trouble would it be to match them up?" She wondered aloud. "Do you think you could help with that?"

Peeta's expression brightened and took on a mischievous cast. "Sure, I can do that. If…" he let his voice subside and then chuckled at her aggravated look.

"If," she prompted.

"If you let me cook you dinner," he presented his offer in a guarded and yet hopeful tone.

Katniss's eyes rounded as another round of color flooded her cheeks. That was the last thing she expected, and it wasn't like she wasn't tempted because she was. There was no way she could agree without the wrath of God coming down on her. "Uh…Mr. Mellark…I…I'm flattered. Really I am, but you have to know why what you're asking is impossible."

"Impractical maybe but not impossible," he pointed out. "It's dinner, Detective, I'm not asking for anything more than that. We can even go out if that would make you more comfortable. "

She shoved her hands in her pockets, all too aware of Finnick watching the exchange with interest from where he stood in the corner of the room, the phone still to his ear. "Why would you want to? It doesn't make sense. Why me? Why now?"

He laughed softly under his breath before he answered. "I'm just trying to figure you out. Every time we meet, I add another word to my list. I'm just trying to get the whole picture. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"

She shifted uncomfortably; impressed in spite of herself at how deftly he turned her argument around so that it worked in his favor and not against him. "No," she murmured faintly. "There's nothing wrong with that." She gave him a sideways look and couldn't help but wonder why he seemed so bent on this particular goal. It didn't make sense. Her gaze shifted to Finnick, who smirked and tilted his head to the side. "Okay," she heard herself say. "I'll allow it. Let's get through this and then we'll hammer out the details."

"Okay," he echoed, another of those too bright smiles lighting up his face. "It's a plan. Who knows, Katniss, maybe we could end up as friends? Stranger things have happened."

She watched as he bent over the list, her mind turning the possibilities over in her mind. Friends. No matter what came from this, she didn't think that friendship would ever be a word that applied to her and Peeta Mellark.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The kid was young, cocky, and seemed hell bent on getting on Gale's nerves. Vick Hawthorne could have been his younger brother in another life. His dark hair fell over his forehead, almost obscuring his wide gray eyes. "You're supposed to be some sort of cop," Vick drawled disdainfully. "You got a badge or something? You don't look like any kind of cop I've ever seen."

Johanna snorted under her breath, biting back a smart ass comment when Gale turned his glare in her direction. He shook his head at her but pulled out his wallet and flashed his badge. "There you go, Junior. Now if you're happy, I need to ask a few questions."

Vick had the audacity to lean forward, his nose practically touching the badge as he studied it carefully. "Gale," he snickered. "What kind of name is that?" He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. "Hurry up and ask me whatever you want to know. I've got work of my own to do."

Johanna broke in before Gale could explode on the insolent boy. "Kid, your mouth is writing checks that your ass is going to cash if you piss me off. Bite your tongue unless it's an answer to Detective Hawthorne's questions." The boy's eyes widened comically but he straightened and nodded respectfully. "How long have you worked here?"

Vick swallowed noisily but immediately answered, "About a year. Peeta…that is…Mr. Mellark took me on my last year of high school because my mom wanted me to get a job. She said I needed to learn responsibility. I dunno why."

Johanna smiled behind her hand but didn't let it show. "Were you involved in the fair?"

Vick smirked. "I practically ran the bakery booth on my own. I'm Peeta's right hand guy. He couldn't run this place without me." His thin chest puffed out in a sort of boastful display. "Me and Ti, we hold it down, you know."

"Ti," Gale chimed in. "That would be Tyrus Coin. He's not working today, is he?"

"No," Vick stated knowledgeably. "He doesn't work on here on the days that he has the night shift down at Haymitch's. He's a bartender. You could probably catch him there later."

Johanna made a note on her pad. "How will we know him?"

The boy laughed, pushing his heavy forelock off his forehead with a practiced gesture. "Ti's hard to miss. The crazy fuck's all tattooed up like a tiger. That's why we call him Ti or Tiger rather than Tyrus. He hates that name. He even has eyes like a damned cat." When he ran a hand through his hair again, she saw it. A strangled gasp from Gale told her that he'd seen it to.

"I always wanted a tattoo," she mused to herself. "I've yet to find anything I want on my body permanently. How did you choose yours, Vick?"

He shrugged, giving little thought to why she'd take the trouble to ask. He pointed to a tribal band wound around his bicep. "I got this one on a lark. I just thought it looked badass." Then he pushed his t-shirt sleeve up higher to show a pitch fork wielding devil. "This one is because my mom called me the devil's spawn when I was a kid." He showed them his wrist, the symbol dark against the thin skin. "Me and TI both got this one after we started working here. It's something Peeta drew. We liked the look of it so he let us have it."

Johanna took a closer look, her eyes taking in every line and whorl of the symbol. "It's cool, Vick. Did he say what it meant when he gave it to you?" The boy shook his head, dawning curiosity blooming in his eyes at her apparent interest in his tattoo. She laughed and closed her pad with a thump. "Well maybe I'll get him to draw me something. If I'm going to put something on me permanently, it should at least be an original. Thanks for your help, kid. Gale, you want to go see if Katniss and Finnick are done?"

He followed her out of the kitchen, stopping short of the main room, his excitement obvious in the taut lines of his body. "That links Mellark to the signature. We've got the bastard now, Johanna. Not even Paylor can write this off."

"I think we should talk to this guy, Ti, to see what he has to say. We want to cover all the bases, make sure it's airtight before we take him downtown. Remember what you told Katniss, Gale. We're doing this by the book."

Gale smirked, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. "Oh…we'll go by the book. We'll tie him up nice and tight and then we'll put the fucker away for the rest of his life; a nice long jaunt over in block Thirteen. Let's go, Mason. We've got stuff to do and a case to solve."

Johanna didn't respond but something told her that it wasn't going to be as easy as Gale thought it was going to be.

End chapter 5.


	6. Pandora Opens Her Box

 

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 5: Pandora Opens her Box

_I believe every case has a black box. A piece of evidence, a person, a positioning of facts that brings a certain understanding…~Harry Bosch as written by Michael Connelly_

Katniss Everdeen paced the length and breadth of her bedroom, tossing glances at her closet and hissing like the tomcat dogging her heels. "For God's sake, go away, you blasted fur ball," she exclaimed hotly. "This is hard enough without you trying to knock me on my ass every other minute."

The feline, named Buttercup, peered up at her with mismatched eyes before he leapt on the bed and perched there like a king. Katniss growled at him on general principle before she ventured back to the closet, praying for some sort of divine intervention. She fingered the collar of a silky blouse the color of spring violets. She'd bought it on a whim and at Johanna's insistence, the other swearing it did amazing things to her eyes. She pulled it off the hanger and held it up in front of her, eying herself uncertainly in the mirror. "What do you think, cat? Is this the sort of thing a girl wears when going to dinner with a prime suspect?" Her fingers shook, twisting the fine fabric until it creased irrevocably. "Dammit," she smoothed the wrinkles and closed her eyes. Nothing could make this any better.

Muttering curses, she shrugged into the blouse and then snagged a pair of slim black leggings from an adjacent hanger. Her favorite pair of low-heeled boots were serviceable but well broken in and comfortable. She eyed her reflection and wondered yet again what the hell she was thinking by agreeing to have dinner with this man. Gale was right and she was letting personal feelings get in the way of her professional judgment. She needed to end this before it got completely out of hand. Once she had the Dollmaker under lock and key, maybe then she could sort out what it was about this Peeta Mellark that made her forget what she was and why she'd become a cop in the first place.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The table was under the sky, surrounded by flowers and tide pools. Chimes danced in the shifting breezes that fluttered the lacy tablecloth and made candle flames writhe in incised glass globes. Katniss looked around in awe before piercing her now silent companion with an accusing stare.

"You said we were going out," she prompted hoarsely. "This isn't what we agreed on."

Peeta shoved his hands in his pockets but managed a hopeful look. "Technically, we are out. Do you like it?"

An unwilling smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Yes," she admitted softly. "I like it very much. It's beautiful."

"Well in that case, we should get moving before your dinner gets cold."

Katniss found a chair and sat with folded hands as he uncovered a feast and laid it before her. Lamb stew with tiny slivers of plum throughout, wild rice, warm cheesy buns venting fragrant steam, a tray filled to overflowing with an assortment of cakes and cookies. Apples…crisp and ripe and golden…were mounded in a bowl surrounded by tart pears, fat sweet grapes, and plump oranges that smelled of summer.

"If it's not what you wanted, I can bring something else," Peeta took a seat opposite her and gestured toward her as yet empty plate.

"No," her hand shyly covered his as he attempted to clear the table. "Don't. I just wasn't expecting so much, Peeta. It's great.."

Silence reigned as they fell to, broken only by clinking glass and the murmur of wind chimes. Katniss watched him over the rim of her cup, the way he fidgeted and tried to cover it up by taking small bites and stealing glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. He was a talker, at home with people and conversation in a way that she could never be, so the lack thereof had pulled him out of his comfort zone. The situation would be funny if she was deliberately trying to get under his skin. She almost wished she was that devious. As it was, she was having a hard time convincing herself to stay in the chair.

"Why did you become a cop?" His eyes were shadowed by candle light, more black than blue. The vibrant threads teased out highlights in the tumble of curls falling over his forehead. Her heart lurched in her chest as she met his curious look. "Was it what you always wanted to do?"

She toyed with her fork, fumbling for words for something she'd never told a soul. Not the whole of it. Gale knew most of the story, as did Johanna. They knew how it egged her on to work harder, dig deeper. Her mouth moved of its own accord. "My friend was killed. She left home and that was it. She was just gone. They never found the guy that did it. The cops thought it was random, that he saw her and took her. I tried to tell them about letters she'd been getting for weeks from some secret admirer that filled her head with pretty words. I told her not to go but she wouldn't listen and then they wouldn't listen. By then, it was too late." Her hands trembled so much that the fork slipped from her grasp.

"Oh God, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Katniss, I didn't mean to," he faltered as she looked up, tears making her silver eyes molten in the flickering flames. "I didn't think I hoped to learn about you, get to know you. I guess I should have asked about your favorite color."

Katniss shook her head, turning away to daub furiously at her eyes. "I shouldn't have said that. I've never…I mean…don't. Let's just get this over with." She picked up another fork and gestured feebly toward the mountain of food. "Please." After an endless moment, she looked up again. "Green. My favorite color is green."

"I can see that," a small smile touched his lips as he settled back in his chair. "Mine's orange like a sunset."

"Like a sunset," she repeated then gave a snort of laughter. It soon grew until she had to hold her stomach while once again rubbing telltale wetness away. His wounded expression prompted another round of residual giggles. "You're a piece of work, Mellark, I have to give you that. God, I haven't laughed like that since I don't know when."

His hand found hers on the table, fingers lacing together almost as an afterthought. A light tug was all it took to bring her closer, eyes wide and wondering as he lowered his head and brushed her lips with his. She didn't try to pull away, didn't react at all except for a long, low exhale that seemed to come from her toes. "Do you want me to stop?" He mumbled, moving to put some distance between them when she remained silent. "Katniss, did you hear me?"

Katniss blinked, confusion writ in the tilt of her head and the way she lifted her arm to stare at his fingers encircling her wrist. "What are you doing?"

He shied back, pink staining his cheeks as he stammered apologies. "I didn't think. I don't know what I…"

"We can't do this. I can't," Katniss twisted her arm out of his grasp and let it fall to her side. "Not with you. Not now."

He froze, the sweet shy smile slipping off his face as he straightened. "Not with me, huh? Why is that?"

Alarmed by the abrupt shift in his mood, she eyed him uncertainly. "That's not what I meant. I have to concentrate on this case. I can't let anything or anyone get in the way of that."

Blue eyes retained a glacial tinge but his expression softened. "Haven't you heard that old saying about all work and no play? You need a little down time, Katniss."

"Down time. Yeah, right. That's not going to happen any time soon."

Peeta's face thawed even further as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he looked at her intently. "Why do you push yourself so hard? Because you blame yourself for what happened to your friend? I hardly know you but even I can see that you're beating yourself up for something you had no control over."

Rage frothed and beat itself to ragged tatters against stony disbelief. "What?" She bit out furiously. "Who said I wanted your opinion? You don't know me and you have no right."

"Why's that?" He questioned idly. "Because I won't stand aside and let you tear yourself down or because I like you and I acted on it. Which one pisses you off the most?"

"I shouldn't have come here." She bolted to her feet and made for the door, not looking back when he called after her.  _This was a mistake. What the hell was I thinking? I'm so stupid, so damned stupid. Fuck off, Mellark._ The last thought brought her up short. She could hardly believe how angry she'd allowed herself to get. He hadn't said anything to her that Gale and Johanna hadn't said a thousand times over. Coming from him, a relative stranger, gave it more weight. It made Katniss stop and take notice instead of automatically brushing it aside. She whirled back to face him, even more furious now than she was before. "Fuck you," she growled between clenched teeth. "Fuck. You."

Fire kindled in the blue depths staring back at her. Lips thinned into a taut line that looked odd when paired with the dimple riding high on one flushed cheek. Hands fisted at his sides as he rose and took two quick steps in her direction. And then nothing. He simply stopped, locked in place by an unseen force, still wearing that off kilter smile. "No," he muttered almost too softly to hear. "No."

"No what?" Katniss wondered aloud. He was like a weathervane, swerving from one mood to another almost too quickly to follow. Her insistence that he wasn't the Dollmaker began to waiver. There were many facets to Peeta Mellark, sides of him that didn't seem to fit with the charming, soft-spoken baker that caught her attention. He was mercurial, it seemed, changeable as the sky over their heads. Just like that, she was questioning her assessment of this man. Was Gale right? Would the path to the Dollmaker lead them right to Peeta Mellark's door?

"Never mind. It doesn't matter. Just go, Katniss."

"I want to know why you said no. Tell me."

He barked out a laugh, harsh and brittle and everything that wasn't him. It didn't add up. "I thought you were different," his voice was muffled by the hand rubbing tiredly at his eyes. "I thought you'd be able to understand but you can't. You're just like the rest of them." He lowered his hand and offered up a smile, though it bore no resemblance to the sun-bright one she expected. "I made a mistake. "

"Just like the rest of them? What do you mean?" This time it was she who caught his arm and held on stubbornly until he met her curious gaze. "What am I missing?"

He gently extricated himself from her loose grip and laughed softly under his breath. There was no humor in it. None. It was black and bitter and resigned. She opened her mouth again but he cut her off. "Good night, Detective. Be safe. There's all sorts of monsters in the dark. Most of them you never see coming."

He turned away then and started packing up the remnants of the beautiful feast they'd barely touched. She didn't know what else to do but leave as he'd asked. She was in her car before his parting words registered. Monsters in the dark that you never saw until they had you. She couldn't help but wonder then what demons awaited Peeta Mellark when the sun went down.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Abernathy's was the usual run of local pubs. There was a pocket dance floor surrounded by rickety tables. The raised daïs that served as a stage took up one corner of the low ceilinged room. The only outstanding feature was the mahogany bar holding court along the back wall. Harsh neon lights and a pervasive fog of smoke couldn't disguise the aged sheen of the wood. Brass kick plates and carved panels made it seem more decorative than functional.

Whoever did the hiring also seemed to have a penchant for blondes if tonight's staff was anything to go by. Johanna counted three before they were seated at the bar. She grinned as she perched on the stool and then spun it so she could see the rest of the room. "This is great. I don't know how I missed this place. We're definitely coming back here."

Gale chuckled as he swiveled his chair to match hers. "These places tend to be neighborhood favorites. This place seems to fit the bill. Hopefully, we can get these interviews wrapped up and the case along with it." He nudged Johanna's foot playfully. "We're this close, Jo. I know it. We're gonna crack this thing."

A curvy blonde bounced up, her friendly smile widening as her gaze shifted from Johanna to Gale. "Hey there, officer, can I show you to a booth or do you want to stay here?"

Johanna, amusement written all over her face, inserted herself between them and took a long look at the name tag riding high on the blonde's low-cut shirt. "Well, Delly, I think the officer likes it fine right here. We're looking for Hazel Hawthorne and a guy named Tyrus. Are either of them here?" Delly gave a wordless nod, her expression suddenly anxious. "Well, how about you get us a couple of Cokes and tell Hazel that we'd like to talk to her? Thanks." Johanna snickered as the girl scurried off, laughing harder as Gale gave her a reproachful look. "What? I was nice."

"You were," Gale conceded. "Your way of being nice is…well…different. Not everybody appreciates it like I do."

"Not bad, Hawthorne, not bad at all. You'd wouldn't be trying to get on my good side, would you?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Mason."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Gale. That's why I keep you around."

A wry female voice chimed in, "I can come back later if you two want to be alone." They turned around hastily, Johanna with a wide grin and Gale's cheeks stained a ruddy red. The woman was small, her dark hair pulled back in a sensible bun, her gray eyes probing as she studied them. "I'm Hazel Hawthorne. Delly said you wanted to speak with me."

"Mrs. Hawthorne," Gale straightened and offered his hand. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with us. I'm Detective Gale Hawthorne and this is Detective Mason. We're part of the investigative team working on the murders that have taken place in the area. Peeta Mellark told us that you were the person to see about the proceeds of the annual street fair. It would be extremely helpful if we could look at the receipts."

A slight smile tipped up the edges of Hazel's mouth. "Hawthorne, huh? You a local? I probably know your parents. Peeta Mellark sent you to me, did you? Well, he's a good boy. Turned that bakery around, him and Prim. I can get whatever you need together but if you need specifics, you're gonna have to talk to Haymitch. He and Effie Trinket handled most of the day-to-day stuff. I just kept everything organized."

"You knew Effie Trinket?" Johanna questioned, her brows pulled together intently.

Hazel laughed quietly and nodded. "Everybody knew Effie. She's been a fixture around the Hob for a while. She used to work here until she got the Arena up and going. Gave Haymitch hell but it was all for show. She was one of the few people the old man could tolerate for long."

"How long was she here?" Johanna made rapid notes on her pad.

Hazel thought for a minute, staring up at the smoke shrouded ceiling. "About four months give or take. She worked behind the bar. Haymitch usually keeps three out front; one on the bar, one on the floor and a bouncer to keep things quiet. Ripper takes care of the kitchen."

"Did she have a good relationship with the other employees? Any problems with customers that you can remember?"

The woman gave a snort of laughter, covering her mouth with a work-roughened hand. "Effie had a problem with the world, Detective. I think that's why she and Haymitch got along so well. He put her behind the bar to keep things short and sweet between her and the customers." Hazel took an empty stool and tapped her foot impatiently against the bottom rung. "I was headed home, Detective. Is this going to take much longer? I've got to get home to my kids."

It was Gale's turn to smile. "We met Vick at the bakery. How many children do you have, Mrs. Hawthorne?"

Hazel quirked a brow but readily answered. "I have three, two boys and a girl. Vick is my oldest."

"He seems like quite a character," Johanna chimed in. "We talked about his tattoos. I like the one on his wrist."

"He can be a brat," Hazel quipped with a resigned expression. "Working for Peeta has been good for him, helped keep his head on straight. Vick got that one shortly after he started at the bakery. Tyrus came up with the design and then Peeta put it down on paper. The boys liked it so much that they had it put on permanently."

"They really must have liked it," Johanna mused softly. "That's why I never got one. I can't commit to anything that long-term." She and Gale exchanged a look, him suddenly wearing a narrow-eyed scowl. "Not as a skin decoration anyway." Johanna closed the notebook with a rustle of pages one against the other. "Mrs. Hawthorne, thank you for your time. We won't keep you any longer. If you could get the stuff together from the street fair, we'll have someone pick it up."

Hazel nodded, her storm gray eyes sparkling in the hazy glow of the neon signs above the bar. "I'll have it ready by ten tomorrow morning along with the employments records for the girls."

Gale paused, his hand hovering in the air between them forgotten, as he raised his brows inquiringly. "Employment records for the girls?"

"I thought you'd want them," Hazel's voice trailed off uncertainly. "It's sort of a thing around here that restaurants and bars trade staff from time to time. Three of the girls worked here in the last year. Glimmer Maldonado was here for six months and the newest girl, Rue, was here just a few months ago. You knew that, right?"

Johanna smiled tightly, tapping her pen against her notebook. "Actually we didn't but we're certainly interested in seeing those records. I'll pick them up personally." She proffered one of her cards. "Just call me when you have it ready."

"Of course," Hazel demurred. "I'll do that, Detectives. It's been enlightening." She climbed off the stool and headed toward the kitchen before looking back over her shoulder. "Detective Hawthorne, it's probably none of my business but I don't usually let that stop me. Let me give you some advice. Wait until you have the story before you come to any kind of conclusions. Things aren't always what they seem at first glance."

To Johanna's surprise, Gale smiled and nodded. He didn't say a word as they watched the woman until she disappeared from view. "Wanna see if Tyrus is around?" She questioned lightly.

"Yeah," he agreed in a bemused tone. "Let's do that."

Johanna patted his knee and then bounded off the stool. "I'll go round up that waitress. I'll be right back." Gale nodded distractedly but didn't look around as Johanna walked away.

Xoxoxoxxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He watched them across the room, his golden eyes narrowed on the tall dark man and the slight brunette with him. They had cop written all over them. He caught Delly's arm as she tapped the second Coke and dropped a couple of straws on the tray. "Who is Hazel talking to? They look like cops."

Delly gave her usual wide-eyed smile but she flinched under his hand. "They're cops," she said breathily. "They wanted to talk to Hazel about something. They also wanted to know if you were here tonight. Want me to tell them you'll be over in a minute?"

The big man hesitated, his fingers unconsciously tightening on Delly's shoulder. Tyrus Coin cut an imposing figure. He was well over six feet, lean and tautly muscled, with slanted hazel eyes more gold than brown. One arm sported a black panther endlessly on the prowl while the other had a finely detailed cheetah drawn with delicate precision. A muscle in his cheek twitched as he continued to stare across the bar. "Yeah, tell them I'll be out in a minute. Haymitch wanted those cases straightened up before it gets busy. He'll have my ass if it's not done."

Delly offered up a thin smile, hurriedly stepping out of reach as soon as he let her go. He watched her head off the brunette before ducking through the back door and out into the night. Taking deep breaths of the cool air, he dropped his head into his hands and then leaned heavily against the wall. "Fucking bitch, she just had to tell them I was here. God dammit." He paced back and forth jerkily. "Get it together, man. You got this." He straightened, absently running his finger over the lines of his wrist tattoo. "You got this."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He swung the door open, mouth falling open as he took in his visitor.

"Katniss, what are you doing here?" Peeta asked in a confused tone.

Katniss shifted from foot to foot, anxiously twisting her scarf between her fingers. "I shouldn't have come here," she mumbled under her breath.

Peeta leaned against the jamb, arms crossed over his chest as he studied her. "Then why did you?"

"I…uh…I may have overreacted earlier," she dropped her gaze to the tattered carpet at her feet. "You took me by surprise and I just…I don't know." Katniss gathered her courage and lifted her chin, meeting his questioning look head on. "I like you. The smart thing would be to keep this on the back burner until we get this case figured out but that's not how it's working out. You said that I wouldn't understand but I'd like the opportunity to try. Can we start over? Can I come in?"

He chewed on his bottom lip as he studied her, but didn't say a word otherwise. Katniss untangled her hands from the scarf and shoved them into her jacket pockets. She nodded once, a stiff smile quirking her lips up. She saw movement from the corner of her eye and looked up as he gestured for her to come inside. Letting out a shaky breath, she ducked past him and into the apartment.

End chapter 5


	7. Not Such a Good Thing After All

 

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 6: Not Such a Good Thing After All

" _Maybe paranoia was not such a good thing after all. It can help you keep an edge but it can also paralyze you." ~Harry Bosch as written by Michael Connelly_

The dingy apartment wasn't what she expected, especially when compared with the vibrant simplicity of the bakery below. The two couldn't be more different if they tried. The shop was a delightful melding of color, form, and function. Each detail had a purpose; to please the eye, to soothe, to compliment. The apartment was a desert, barren and harsh and devoid of life.

Katniss stopped and let her eyes wander, trying to find some semblance of Peeta in the room. Charming, loquacious, enigmatic Peeta was so clear in the warm coziness of the bakery but the cold-eyed, brittle man who spoke of devils in the dark could be seen in every lonely inch of this wasteland of an apartment. He was both and the realization shook her. She couldn't stop the doubt that seeped in. Could she be wrong?

"You said you wanted to start over," His curious voice broke into her musings, pulling her around to face him.

"I did," she affirmed as she folded her arms protectively across her middle. "This thing…whatever it is…" Her hand lifted and gestured aimlessly in the space between them. "Peeta, I have to know. Did you have anything to do with these murders?" There. For better or worse, she'd put it out there, the confusing, contradictory mess. Now it was up to him to either answer the question or tell her to go to hell.

Peeta stared at her, his expression an odd mixture of amusement and pity. "Katniss, if I was, do you think I'd tell you and would you believe me if I did?"

She snorted, even going so far as to roll her eyes in a very unKatnisslike way. "Yeah, I think you would. You haven't lied to me yet. I don't think you're going to start now."

"What makes you think I haven't?"

"Let's just say I'm playing the odds," She tugged off her coat and tossed it on the couch, laying her scarf on top of it. "I don't have proof one way or the other. I'm going with my gut and it's telling me to trust you. Am I wrong, Peeta?"

"You know what I'm going to say," he shook his head wryly. "God, Katniss, anybody who answered otherwise would be an idiot. No, I don't know a damned thing except what you and your partners told us during your visits to the bakery. I knew Effie. I know Rue's boss because she's a long time customer. Anything more and I can't help you."

Katniss let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding. He'd taken the long way around in his denial but it rang true. Maybe she was a fool but she believed him. "So now what?" She asked softly.

He smiled and rubbed his jaw before meeting her eyes. "I guess we start over."

She smiled back, the reprieve bringing with it an unexpected flutter low in her belly which made her hastily avert her gaze. As she did, the painting over the mantle caught her eye. It was a pastoral setting of a blooming meadow and placid lake. Peeta's distinctive signature in the corner was in a slightly darker shade than the surround. Katniss leaned closer as she noticed the obscured forms of a woman and child. "You painted this," she commented needlessly.

Something shifted in his expression, a dark cloud that blocked out the sun. A brief flash of pain contorted his features. "Yeah, a long time ago. It's reminds me of where I grew up so I kept it."

Katniss's hand hovered over the smaller figure, a twisted smile playing on her mouth. "So this is you. Is that your mom?"

"My stepmother actually," Peeta confided. His voice was taut and strained. Katniss tore her gaze away to give him a concerned look. He didn't notice; instead, his whole attention was on the painting. "My mother died when I was born. Dad remarried when I was three. Prim came along two years later."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him what disturbed him so but she didn't. Seeking to distract him, she laid a hand on his arm and offered up a hopeful smile. "I don't suppose there's anything around here to eat. I missed out on an amazing dinner earlier."

Peeta laughed his face softening as he shook his head. "There might be since you asked so nicely. Have a seat and I'll put a plate together for you. "He waited until she tucked herself into a corner of the couch before making his way to the kitchen. "I've got tea, hot chocolate, and water," he announced through the doorway. "What would you like?"

"Real hot chocolate or the powdered stuff," she challenged cheekily.

He laughed again, the sound punctuated by tinkling glass and the whump of the refrigerator opening. "What do you think, silly?" The door closed, a pot rattled, and then silence. Katniss started when he suddenly stuck his head through the door, brows lifted inquiringly. "Hot chocolate then?"

"Yes, that would be lovely."

Peeta returned shortly, carrying two steaming mugs and a plate mounded with cheese buns. His lips quirked into a grin as he saw the eager look she gave the bread. "These are good for dipping," he stated as he plunked the lot on the low table before her. "I thought you might like to try it."

Katniss snagged a bun and tore off a corner before dipping it into the frothy chocolate. She popped it into her mouth and then bit back a groan. "Good then?" His voice held a warm current of laughter that warmed her almost as much as the chocolate. She nodded by way of reply before popping another piece into her mouth. "I can fix you something else if you want. That's more of a snack than a meal."

"No," she muttered around yet another bite. "This is fine. Thank you."

His eyes simmered with an emotion she couldn't put a name to. No one had ever looked at her like he was in that moment. She focused on her drink and on quieting her galloping heart. It beat out a rapid tattoo; a telltale fluttering that gave her away to the man watching her so intently. "Is everything alright, Katniss?"

She took a hasty swallow of her chocolate, hiding her face behind the mug as her mind raced ahead, searching for a suitable response. "Uh…fine. Why?"

Peeta took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, one leg bent beneath him as he angled to face her. His voice softened in response to her obvious discomfort, the words languid and slow like honey as he watched her shift uncomfortably. "No reason. You just seem distracted."

"I'm fine. The chocolate was warmer than I thought so I'm just giving it a minute to cool."

He scooted closer until their knees almost touched, a finger's width of cushion between them. "Katniss," her name was a silken whisper. He couldn't miss the way her eyes fluttered shut or the way her fingers tightened on the mug. The very air between them hummed with every want and wish they couldn't or wouldn't give voice to. His fingers were gentle as they encircled her wrist and urged her closer. He took the mug and plate from her and sat it on the table, and then gently tucked her braid aside, revealing the slight ridge of her collarbone.

His mouth was hot as he peppered the taut line of her throat with nibbling kisses that made her toes curl. The ragged pant of his breath on the damp skin his kisses left in their wake pebbled her arms with goose-flesh. Katniss shuddered as she mumbled something resembling his name. Reason fled...every why not and excuse why she shouldn't be doing this burning away with every touch, every flicker of drowsy blue amid the gold of his ridiculous lashes. Not even the sudden chill of air conditioning on heated skin as her shirt and bra was peeled away brought her out of her haze. She was completely caught up in the spell he wove; too far gone for her earlier doubts to stop her now.

It was him that brought her back to reality, a sudden shift in the way her touched her. Her eyes reluctantly opened, her fuzzy brain focusing on his hands, his mouth, the warm weight of him pressed against her. His kiss was still deep and slow and languorous. His hands moved with deliberate thoroughness, seeking out her every sensitive spot. It was the eyes that gave him away. They were detached, withdrawn, lost somewhere within instead of here with her. He was on autopilot as his fingers found the smooth curve of her hip, splayed on the flat plain of her stomach and then rolled her leggings down one at a time. Perfunctory. Cursory. There but not really.

"Hey," she said softly as she cupped his cheek and drew his gaze up to hers. "Where'd you go?"

He shook his head, awareness leaking back into his eyes, his cheeks turning pink in mortification. "I'm...uh...I don't know..."

Katniss shushed him gently, letting her hands roam across his shoulders and down solid length of his arms. "It's okay. It's alright. Just don't leave, Peeta, not like that. If we're going to do this, I need you to stay with me." She brushed a sweat dampened tangle of curls out of his eyes and offered up a tentative smile. "Stay with me."

He trembled under her hands, tiny shivering jolts that had her drawing him closer, wrapping herself around him like a vine. "It's never been...I can't..." his voice broke on a brittle laugh, an undercurrent lending it a ragged edge. "As long as you want me: a day, a week, always. Whatever you want."

Xoxoxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Delly said you guys were looking for me," the big man had a deceptively soft voice. His slanted eyes were so light a brown as to look golden in the hazy light.

Johanna sized him up, brows lifting almost to her hairline as she took him in. "You Tyrus?" When he nodded, she flashed a lopsided grin and patted the stool next to hers. "Thanks for coming over. We know you're busy so we won't keep you long."

Tyrus shrugged as he sat down, his eyes darting from one to the other. "Something wrong, officers?" He asked hesitantly.

It was Gale who chose to answer. "No, it's nothing like that. We just have a few questions. Peeta from Mellark's may have told you that we're interviewing everyone who works in the area. We won't take up much of your time, Ty. Is it okay if I call you that?"

Tyrus gave a cautious nod, the tense lines of his face easing a bit at Gale's reassurance. "Sure, man, whatever you want."

"Just a few things," Johanna repeated as she flipped through her notepad, her eyes moving rapidly across the page. "How long have you worked here?"

He frowned, his eyes moving up and to the left as he considered the question. "Uh…it's been about two years now. Yeah, between here and Mellark's, it's been about two years."

"You from here?" Johanna asked conversationally.

"No," Tyrus frowned thoughtfully. "I moved here with my mom when I was fifteen. Been here ever since."

"Peeta said you helped with the street fair, you and Vick. Are you an artist too?"

Golden eyes narrowed, darting to the right swiftly and then back to Gale. He blinked once, chewing on his lip as he shook his head. "I mess around a bit but nothing to brag about." He gestured to the cheetah adorning one shoulder. "I did that. It turned out pretty good. Then I did Vick's devil. Mrs. Hawthorne hates it but Vick likes it."

Gale nodded and smiled encouragingly. "You did the wrist one that you and Vick have too, right?"

"I didn't draw it," Tyrus asserted. "We were goofing off one day when the bakery was slow. I outlined it in some flour. Vick thought it was pretty badass so Peeta volunteered to sketch it for us. We took the drawing and got it roughed out on our wrists."

"So you laid it down in freehand," Gale echoed. "Had you seen the design before?"

Tyrus smirked, his face taking on an oddly superior expression. It was cocky, sly, and raised the hair on the back of Johanna's neck. Something about this guy, it set her teeth on edge. "Nah, man, it don't mean nothing. Like I said, we was just playing."

"Well, that's all we have, Mr. Coin. Thank you for your time," Gale held out his hand and smiled when the man reluctantly took it.

He turned away after giving them a short nod, only to pull up short when Johanna called after him. "One last thing, Tyrus, if you don't mind. You said you've been here for about two years, right?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "So you knew Glimmer? Maybe Effie or Rue?"

Tyrus squared his shoulders, golden eyes challenging as he faced the petite brunette. "A lot of people knew them. Half the neighborhood comes in here on any given night. People that work here are familiar faces."

"I was just wondering if you knew them," Johanna mused. "I mean, you're a good-looking guy. Glimmer especially was a good-looking girl. Ever see her outside of work? Get dinner or drinks, that sort of thing?"

His smile was a twisted snarl, more grimace than grin as he eyed her. "I don't like blondes, Detective, or girls with more sass than sense. Effie Trinket liked to mouth off. I don't think anybody but the old man could put up with her shit unless they were as fucked in the head as she was. And the other one, Rue, she was like a little bird darting around and didn't look a day over twelve."

"So you didn't know any of them socially then," Johanna reiterated. "Is that what you're saying?"

Tyrus huffed noisily. "No, I got better things to do than chasing skirts where I work. That shit's only asking for trouble." He turned to Gale, patience clearly at an end. "Can I go now?

Gale waved him off and then gave Johanna an enigmatic look. "Well, that was interesting."

She tapped her pen on her palm, staring after the bouncer thoughtfully. "Kinda touchy, isn't he? I don't think he liked me at all."

Gale followed her gaze, his own narrowed pensively. "I don't believe he did, Johanna. No, I don't think he did."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Johanna Mason pulled into the lot of Abernathy's Pub and killed the engine. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her messages and emails before firing off a quick text to let Gale know where she was. He answered back promptly, reminding her that the team was meeting up back at the station for a round table to discuss their progress. She replied with a frowny face before putting it back in her pocket.

The door was unlocked so she let herself in, calling out a sotto voce hello as she entered the bar.

"Detective Mason," Hazel Hawthorne's reply was muffled by the swinging kitchen door. "Have a seat. I have those records for you. Give me a moment and I'll bring them right out."

Johanna took the stool she'd occupied the previous night, tapping her heel against the foot prop as she waited. It was only a moment before Hazel pushed though the adjoining door, a manila envelope tucked under her arm. "Thank you for getting this together so quickly," Johanna said as she took the file and laid it on the bar in front of her. "It's very helpful, Mrs. Hawthorne. We appreciate it."

Hazel waved her thanks away. "I just hope it helps. The sooner you put this guy away, the better we'll sleep at night. It's so awful what's happened. Those poor, poor girls. I can't imagine what their families are going through."

Johanna bowed her head, avoiding the woman's earnest look. It was the only part of the job she despised. People expected those who served on the force to be more than human, to stand against the dark without falling into it. They didn't want to hear about the long hours, the emotional toll, the time away from friends and family. They wanted to feel safe in their homes and in their workplaces. The Hob had lost that sense of security. It was up to her and the rest of her team to give that back to them.

"It will be," she vowed fiercely. "We'll catch this guy. Our best are working on this case. Sooner or later, he'll mess up and we'll get him."

Hazel 's gray eyes were solemn as they met Johanna's brown. "I know you will, Detective. I'm sure you're doing everything you can."

The two women shared a look of understanding before taking going their separate ways, both hopeful that they were one step closer to putting this case to bed.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The invitation from Prim Mellark set Katniss's teeth on edge. She had a few hours before the status meeting so, if she wanted to go, now was as good a time as any. Katniss couldn't help but wonder what the girl wanted to talk to her about. She'd left the apartment in the early morning hours so those slated to open up the bakery would be none the wiser. Peeta gave her a sleepy goodbye and a lingering kiss after extracting a promise from her to come by later. Meeting Prim would kill two birds with one stone.

Katniss gave Peeta's sister an uncomfortable smile as she entered the bakery. The petite blonde gave her a knowing look but refrained from commenting on it. Instead, she smiled brightly as she reached across the table to take Katniss's hand in both of hers once they were seated. "I wanted to say thank you. It's been a long time since I've seen my brother so happy. Too long."

Katniss gave a jerky nod; feeling beads of sweat break out along her hairline and moistening her palms. Prim gave no outward sign that she noticed. The girl gave Katniss's trapped fingers a companionable squeeze before letting go."You don't have to thank me," Katniss said gruffly. "I haven't done anything."

"You made him smile and laugh again, instead of that fake mask that he puts on for most of the world. I missed that, Katniss. I missed him. I have you to thank for bringing him back to me."

Her brows pulled together in disbelief. Were they even talking about the same person? Peeta Mellark could charm the birds from the trees if he chose to. "I don't understand," she said warily. "I mean, you're welcome. I just don't get what you're trying to tell me."

Prim hesitated, clearly reconsidering what she was about to say. Whatever objections she might have had were disregarded because words suddenly poured out in a torrent. "He didn't have it easy growing up. He tried to hide it; just as she tried to put a good face on how miserable our home life was once Dad was gone. My brother went through hell, Katniss. For a long time, I was oblivious but things always have a way of coming out. When it fell apart, it was Peeta, not me, that got caught in the rubble." She stopped to wipe her now wet eyes with the back of her hand. "Things changed for Peeta once I came along. He never blamed me, but I knew what was going on. Mother was a monster. I don't know what Dad ever saw in her."

Katniss shook her head in confusion. "What does that have to do with me and Peeta? I'm sorry but I'm not making the connection."

Prim's pretty face wore bemusement well. She eyed Katniss in disbelief before realization set in. "He never told you, did he? How our parents met? I'm sorry, Katniss. I was so sure that he had. Forgive me."

Curiosity unfurled her tongue before she could bite it back. "No, he didn't. How did they meet?"

Prim smiled sadly, her fingers drumming on the table surface. "She was a waitress working at a diner where Dad occasionally stopped on his way out of town. They hit it off and were married within six weeks. Peeta was three at the time. I came along two years later."

The realization, when it came, was white-hot in its intensity. Something shifted, the pieces rearranging and realigning into a grim truth that she couldn't deny. "Prim, where is your mother now?"

Prim's expression crumpled into grief, her eyes flooding with tears once more. "She died. Somebody strangled her in the bakery. Left her there. Peeta found her the next morning. The killer was never caught."

Katniss felt the blood in her veins turn to ice; the shards like knives tearing her apart from the inside out. All this time, he'd been right there in front of her and she hadn't seen it. The truth had been there all along but she'd been too blind or too caught up in how he made her feel to realize it. The thought almost brought her to her knees, but she forced herself to stay on her feet. Peeta Mellark, the man she thought she might be in love with, was the man she'd been hunting for almost five months. He was the killer of four women. He was the Dollmaker. The knowledge made her ache, even though a tidal wave of relief came with it. She knew who he was now. And that it was up to her to make sure that he never killed again


	8. through the looking glass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter has mention of child abuse. It's in vague terms…but it is there. Please keep that in mind when reading.

 

Eye of the Beholder

Chapter 7: through the looking glass

_The details are important. What is cryptic and unconnected now becomes the magnifying glass through which things become clear later. ~Harry Bosch as written by Michael Connelly_

Johanna tossed her bag and the thick manila envelope in the passenger seat before she climbed in and slipped the keys into the ignition. She gave the bundle a thoughtful look before letting her hand fall away from the key. "Just a glance to see what we have," she lectured herself. "Boggs will have your ass as it is, idiot. You're gonna be so late." Decision made, she flicked the tiny silver clasp and withdrew a sheaf of time cards and employment records. "Thank you, Hazel," Johanna murmured as she thumbed through the pile. It was sorted neatly into individual bunches and secured with a paperclip. Glimmer Downs. Effie Trinket. Rue Matisse. Clove Matthews.

"Okay," Johanna muttered as she put each separate packet in a different spot on the dashboard or on the seat. "Did any of them work at the same time?" Pulling a pen from her bag, she located the proper area of the form (box) and scribbled the date down in her pad. To get her bearings, she took up the bunch belonging to Glimmer and fanned the pages. "Application, tax documents, ID, time cards, last interview checklist. Damn, that woman is organized." Johanna recorded the date Glimmer left the pub and then swiftly went through the others. "Effie, yes. Rue, no. Clove, no. Okay, we'll look at those two first."

According to the neatly written notes on the last interview, Effie left Abernathy's to open her own after hours club. She'd worked for Haymitch off and on over a two-year period. She'd taken a turn at every position…from dishwasher to bartender to waitress…during that time. She'd even done a stint as assistant night manager. From what Johanna could gather Effie had been an exemplary employee. Effie liked to mouth off. I don't think anybody but the old man could put up with her shit unless they were as fucked in the head as she was. "Well, well. Looks like we have something in common, Effie," Johanna chuckled softly. "He doesn't like me either." On a hunch, she climbed out and went back inside.

Hazel Hawthorne quirked a brow in surprise as Johanna entered but continued to speak softly to the curvy blonde from the other night. Delly. That was her name. Those sharp gray eyes shifted between the two women as Hazel handed the girl a slip of paper and waved her off. "Detective, was there something else you needed?" Her tone was polite but guarded as she crossed the room.

"I'm sorry to bother you again," Johanna apologized. "I was just curious about something and hoped that you could help me out."

"If I can," Hazel allowed, her head tilted inquiringly. "What is it?"

"I was just wondering about Effie," Johanna eyed the woman. "She's something of a character the way everyone talks about her but I noticed that she carried a lot of responsibility when she worked here. I was wondering if she had any problems with a customer or another employee. Like I said, she seemed to know her stuff but she wasn't exactly a people person."

Hazel laughed uproariously. "Not exactly a people person describes her perfectly. You wouldn't think she'd last five minutes in a place like this, but she did. The regulars loved her as much for her attitude as for her knowing their usual. The girls liked her. She knew how to stagger shifts to get everybody into a good tip slot and she didn't play favorites."

Johanna bit her lip, unable to keep disappointment from coloring her tone. "I see. Well, like I said before, I'm sorry I bothered you again."

"It's no bother, none at all," the woman admonished firmly. "I was just going to say that Effie didn't have any problems as far as I know. There were a few incidents where she wrote people up for one reason or another but nothing major."

A quiet alarm went off in the back of Johanna's mind along with the sense of puzzle pieces clicking together. She couldn't say why but something told her this might be important. "Do you keep records of that sort of thing? Maybe dates, names, things like that?"

Hazel motioned for her to follow and then led the way down a small corridor to the office in back of the bar. Once inside, she moved a stack of files to get to a scuffed leather binder. As she thumbed through the pages, Johanna took a quick turn around the office. She paid close attention to the framed photos adorning the walls. "Detective, here's the stuff you asked for. Effie was assistant manager for six months. During that time, she only did three write ups. The details are logged here while the hard copies are kept in the employee files."

Johanna leaned over Hazel's shoulder, her mouth moving silently as she skimmed the page. The first was a waitress named Cecelia who was caught doing shots while on shift. The second was a dishwasher named Thom who snuck out back for smoke breaks every twenty minutes or so. The annotation written in lime green ink stated that Effie let him finish his cigarette before telling him that she'd fire him the next time. The last one…Johanna's brows rose to her hairline. "Is this…" her voice cracked uncertainly.

Hazel's head tilted as she regarded the petite brunette. "That sort of thing happens in this business, Ms. Mason. People drink and it messes with them, makes them do things they normally wouldn't."

"Yeah, but he works here," Johanna tapped the book with her pen. "And drinking at work is a big no no, right? " She bent closer, her finger tracing the line as she read the entry again. "Wait. I read that wrong, didn't I? Glimmer was the one who was drinking. Effie pulled her off shift and called a cab to take her home."

Nodding, Hazel sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "That's why she was let go. Tyrus offered to drive her but she laughed in his face. Made a big deal out of it; put on a show for the bar. The boy held it together and Effie dragged Glimmer out by her pretty blonde hair. As far as I know, that was the last of it."

"Was that the first time she shot him down?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Hazel's brow furrowed as she stared blankly at the wall. "He's quiet. Never bothers a soul."

"I'm beginning to wonder," Johanna mused. "Can I get a copy of this?"

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Five minutes later, Johanna unlocked her car and pulled out her phone as she climbed in, dialing Gale's number from memory. The line buzzed and then clicked as the call connected. She jumped at a sudden knock on the glass. Her thumb found the end call button as she turned her head, light brown eyes finding a tawny gold pair looking back at her. "You scared the hell out of me," she yelped as she cracked the window. "Did you need something?"

His lips turned up in a sly smile as his eyes wandered over her insolently. "You've asked a lot of questions. Figured it was about time you got some answers."

She dropped her hand to her side where her gun rested and then froze when he waggled a finger. "You think you can clear things up for me, do you?"

"I can do a lot of things, Detective. No matter how many times they burn me down, I always come back bigger and better than ever. I'm a phoenix. Eternal. Untouchable. You're going to see the truth of that before we're done."

Her cell phone rang. Johanna lunged for phone but the snub nosed pistol Tyrus aimed at her head through the window brought her up short. "I'm a cop," she burst out. "You touch me and they won't stop until they take you down. Think about it. You don't want to do this."

Tyrus laughed low in his throat and motioned for her to scoot over as he opened the door. "They don't even know who I am. I'm a ghost, Detective, here and then gone before you can blink. We're going to have some fun, you and me. You'll smile just like the rest of them, a pretty little doll for me to play with. You'll beg to smile for me before I'm done."

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Mockingjay Park by daylight was beautiful and serene. The little pond in the center was a tangled mire of willows and reeds. Katniss walked in aimless, endless circles just a few steps away from a small patch of the arrow-leaved plants that shared her name. "It's not real," she mumbled to herself. "It can't be." Her mind spun through a gamut of meaningless thoughts, unable to focus on anything but her unwanted revelation. Peeta Mellark was the Dollmaker. There was nothing concrete, no one set of facts that she could marshal which pointed to him unequivocally. What she had was a bunch of little things, when taken as a whole, made a twisted path to his door.

Her phone beeped, so she absent mindedly lifted it to her ear and mumbled, "Hello?"

Gale Hawthorne wasted no time with a greeting, instead going directly to the purpose of his call. "Where are you? Everybody's circled up to run the numbers but you and Johanna are holding up the works. What gives?"

I'm…uh…just trying to get everything straight in my head," Katniss answered reluctantly. "Got some new information that's gonna help us wrap this up. Can you get Boggs to push the meeting back? I need to talk to you."

Gale's tone lowered as his level of interest climbed. "I don't know. Paylor has us on a pretty short leash, Katniss. It might not be the best time for this unless you've got the magic bullet."

"I've got possible motive," She confided softly. "I've got background that's highly suggestive as to why he's adopted his particular method. I've got visual observation of the suspect disassociating in an emotionally charged situation. Is that enough?"

He swore under his breath as her words sank in. "Dammit, Katniss, what the hell have you been doing?"

"His sister, she handed it to me on a silver platter. The stepmother…Prim described her as a monster. She was murdered, Gale, choked and left in the bakery where he found her the next morning. We should be able to find the investigation file to corroborate the story."

"It's not enough. You know that. Paylor won't let us bring him in on that alone."

Katniss hissed through her teeth, willing him to keep poking holes in her story. "He knows the signature, Gale. He's been linked to two of the victims. The bakery supplies half the neighborhood which would give him access to others. Now we've got motive. It's enough. You know it and so do I."

"I know you have a big mess of maybe. As much as I'd love to haul his ass downtown, we need enough to make it stick before we make our move. Johanna and I found our common thread. All four worked at Abernathy's. She's getting the employment records so that we can nail a timeline down." His hand covered the receiver, his voice muffled as he asked someone a question. "She should have been here by now. Finnick just tried her phone but he didn't get her."

Something in his voice raised her hackles. "Gale," she asked worriedly. "Something going on I should know about?"

"No, it's a hunch, just a flicker of something that might turn out to be nothing. I ran a few names that keep cropping up. Figured it couldn't hurt. Beetee has the stuff but we were waiting until the meeting to see if it turned up anything. Come on in so we can get this over."

She hesitated, her teeth clicking audibly together as the silence drew out to an uncomfortable length. "I can't. Not yet. Not until I'm sure. I'm going back to the bakery to talk to him. If I don't like what he says, I'll bring him in."

"You can't," Gale bit out furiously. "Dammit, Katniss, just come in. You can lay it out for Boggs and the rest of the team. Fuck me, but you and Johanna are driving me crazy."

"I'll talk to him and then I'll go over to Abernathy's and see what time she left. Maybe she found something in those records?"

Gale swore under his breath, "No, go to the bar first. Grab Johanna so you'll at least have backup. Call me the minute you see her so I know what's going on. Fuck me; I don't know how we're going to convince Boggs and Paylor not to take our collective asses downtown."

Mentally crossing her fingers, she muttered inaudibly before hitting the button to end the call. "Sorry, Gale, but I've got to do this my way."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

The conference room was quiet despite being filled to capacity. Dimity Paylor's dark eyes were weighing and measuring as she took a seat at the head of the table. Captain Boggs, sturdy and reserved, carried only a slim folder which he sat down before taking a seat opposite the Judge. The rest filed in, sitting down wherever they found an empty chair. Finnick plopped down beside Gale, offering up a twisted smirk as he extended a hand.

"Want a sugar cube? I'm guessing we're going to need a pick-me-up before this is done. They're sharpening the knives and readying the whips."

Gale shook his head and gave a quiet snort of laughter by way of reply. "We have leads. We just need time to follow the trail."

It was Finnick's turn to laugh loudly and boisterously, which drew every eye in the room. "Time. That's just it, Hawthorne. We don't have time. They want answers. They want results. Needing more time is the last thing they want to hear from us."

Paylor rapped imperiously on the table. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, let's cut to the chase. Where are we on the Dollmaker case? I gave you seventy-two hours. We're a little past the halfway mark. What have you got?" Her gaze swept the room, coming to rest on Gale. "Detective Hawthorne, I don't see Ms. Everdeen here. Wasn't she told about this meeting?"

"She was, Judge Paylor, and she ought to be here soon. Both she and Detective Mason are following up on some leads essential to the case. You'll get a full report of their findings."

The judge didn't look pleased but she didn't comment. Instead, she gestured to Beetee who bustled to the podium and began fiddling with a laptop. Someone dimmed the lights as the projector flared to life. "We don't have a lot in the way of physical evidence," Beetee announced as he cycled through the first few slides, which contained a myriad of charts and formulas incomprehensible to many around the table. "The Dollmaker has left us very little to go on but we may have caught a break with the last one. Scrapes taken from underneath her fingernails contained traces of skin. We've run both PCR and STR analyses on the samples but didn't get a hit when we ran it through CODIS. That tells us that our perpetrator has managed to avoid detection thus far. Whoever he is, he's completely off the grid."

"What does this mean if we find a suspect, Dr. Beecham?" Judge Paylor inquired as she made careful notes on the pad before her.

Beetee cleared his throat, cycling through his slides until he settled on an annotated slide showing a number of incomprehensible blobs. "It will allow us to say with very little doubt whether the person was in contact with the fourth victim."

"Let's be very clear, Doctor. It is only suggestive that the person and the victim were close, yes?"

"Technically, that's what it says," Beetee conceded. "However, one has to consider how the sample would have gotten placed in the area. It's not generally done through passive contact."

"Meaning what," Paylor snapped impatiently.

Beetee didn't blink at her caustic tone. "Meaning she dug her nails in to the other person for whatever reason. It wasn't done through holding hands or brushing against someone in the hallway."

Paylor smiled tightly and again made a note. "Is that everything you have for us, Doctor Beecham?"

A cascade of light played on the plain white walls as Beetee tabbed through his slides. "We have the signature which has been identified as the Egyptian hieroglyph for a phoenix." The slide featured three symbols side by side. The first depicted the glyph. The second showed a similar mark etched on pale skin. The third was a photograph of a painting, bearing the now familiar symbol in the lower corner. "We don't know why he's chosen this particular mark. Traditionally, the phoenix is a symbol or rebirth. Perhaps he sees these murders as a way to transform into something else. Symbology isn't my area of expertise so I'll defer to those better qualified than I to decide whether our assumptions are correct." He then closed his laptop and made his way back to his chair, stopping to lay a manila folder before Gale. "Those names you wanted checked out," Beetee informed him softly.

Gale nodded his thanks and then slid a finger under the flap so he could remove the neat stack of papers. He listened with half an ear as he scanned the reports. Haymitch Abernathy came up clean. No big surprise there. Vick Hawthorne had one incident for public intoxication. Tyrus Coin. Gale's brows lifted as he read, Johanna's voice playing in his mind.  _I don't think he liked me at all._  There was nothing on his sheet except two brief notes from a Dr. Aurelius just after the boy turned eighteen. These referenced a case number prefaced with the letter J.

An idea, unfounded and unformed, strobed in his mind as he stared at the sparsely worded page. It was right there, right in front of him but he couldn't put it in to words. "All the girls worked at Abernathy's Pub. Johanna went to get the employment records this morning. That's our common denominator."

Both the judge and captain eyed him, having noted his change in tone. "What did she find, Gale?" Boggs asked as he studied the younger man closely.

"I don't know, sir. I texted her to tell her about the meeting but haven't heard from her since. Katniss is supposed to meet her there and then they're coming in." His finger skimmed the page, coming to rest on the case number. "Judge Paylor, how hard would it be to spring a juvenile case file? Could you authorize it?

She gave a short nod, darting an inquiring look at Boggs. "Under some circumstances, I can order those records unsealed. What are you getting at, Detective? Is this about Peeta Mellark?"

Gale opened his mouth, and then closed it again as he tried to make sense of the vague hints trying to coalesce. Katniss and her shaky assertions that Mellark was the Dollmaker.  _I've got possible motive. I've got background that's highly suggestive as to why he's adopted his particular methodology. I've got visual observation of the suspect disassociating in an emotionally charged situation. Is that enough?_

"Partly," Gale admitted. "We need to pull the file on his stepmother's murder. He found her body in the bakery. She was strangled." He hesitated but then forged ahead. "There's another person I'm interested in. Call it a hunch. Tyrus Coin works at the bakery and at Abernathy's. He has a tattoo of the symbol we refer to as the signature on his wrist. There's conflicting stories about the origin but one of them is that he designed it and then Peeta Mellark sketched it out for the tattoo template. He has a juvenile record. I'd like to know what's in it."

The judge sat back in her chair, tapping her lips as she studied him. "You're fishing again, Detective Hawthorne," she observed wryly. She then pulled a form out of her briefcase and scribbled a few lines before signing her name with a flourish. "But you have me curious. This should be enough to spring the file. Bring it to me when you have it in hand along with the case file for Mrs. Mellark."

Gale took the folded slip, giving Paylor a tight smile before he headed for the door. "Detective," Paylor's voice pulled him up short. "Let's finish this."

"Yes, ma'am," he answered. "That's the plan." He waited until she waved him out before leaving the room at a fast walk.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

She stood before his door, frozen in indecision. How could she face him? How could she do what she needed to when everything in her rebelled at the thought? He was so gentle, so tender in the way he touched her. His hands created beautiful things. Were they also capable of the horrors the Dollmaker wrought? Katniss thought she knew the answer. It was all there…motive, opportunity, even the method he chose to kill. It was there but she couldn't bring herself to accept it wholeheartedly.

"Fuck, Katniss," she scolded herself and then knocked briskly before she lost her nerve.

His heavy footsteps echoed through the apartment and then the door opened. "Hi," Peeta's smile lit up his face as he drew her in and kissed her lightly. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon."

Katniss looped her arms around his waist, burying her face in the warm hollow of his neck. "I wanted to see you," she mumbled. "I'm sorry if it's a bad time."

He eased her back, eyes intent on her worried face. "You okay? You seem upset. Is something wrong?"

Katniss tugged her hands free and walked deeper into the apartment, coming to a stop before the fireplace. She stared at the painting for a full minute before speaking. "I came here because I need to talk to you. It's important. Please help me. I need you to tell me everything. Will you do that?"

He stilled behind her, shifting from foot to foot as he weighted her words. "What is it?" His voice was uncharacteristically hoarse and rough. "Go ahead, Katniss. What do you want to know?"

"What did she do? Your stepmother?" Solemn gray eyes turned toward him, anguish written in the taut lines of her face. "Prim told me a bit. She thought I knew, that you'd told me." She stepped closer, keeping her gaze locked firmly on his face. "Can you tell me now? Will you trust me, Peeta?"

His breath came in short, sharp pants as he looked past her to the painting. He trembled, hands clenched at his sides as he stared. "Trust," he mouthed the word, seeming to taste the syllables. "Is there anything more pure than the trust a child gives to a parent? They're supposed to love you, to protect you from all the bad things in the world. Isn't that how it's supposed to work?"

Katniss edged closer, one hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. It moved in small, slow circles as she tried to soothe him, offer him what support she could. "Yes, that's how it should be." She hesitated, fingers stilling as she turned him to face her. "But it wasn't, was it?"

He shook his head, tears making those blue irises shine in the dim light filtering through the blinds. "I can't talk about that, Katniss. I'm sorry. I won't."

"Prim called her a monster," Katniss used her sleeve to daub the resulting wetness from his cheeks. "She said you got caught in the rubble. Is that true?"

He caught her wrist, fingers like steel bands as he pushed her away. "You can't understand so stop acting like you can. What do you want me to say? That she beat me. That she told me I was nothing every single day of my life. That she locked me in a closet for hours in the dark. Do you want to know what she looked like when I found her?" His fingers tightened to the point of pain, bruises blooming on her arms like roses. "Do you want to hear that I was actually happy for a second when I saw her lying there? That all I could think about was that it was over; that she could never hurt me again. Is that what you wanted to know? I can't…why would you…how does this help a fucking thing?"

"Peeta," his name was a breathless whisper. "Oh, Peeta."

"I thought you'd understand," he echoed the words he'd said before. "When I saw you on the news the night they found that girl, I knew you'd lost somebody. It was written all over you. And then you came to the bakery. You seemed just as broken as I felt even though you try so desperately to hide it. I couldn't help myself. I wanted to make you smile, to see if we could protect each other from those devils in the dark."

"I want the same thing, Peeta," Katniss murmured as she wriggled her wrist to loosen his hold. "I want you to trust me."

He laughed bitterly before dropping her arms and taking a step back. "I didn't kill her and I didn't kill them. That's why you're here. You listened to everything my sister had to say and came to the brilliant conclusion that it was me, didn't you? Are you going to arrest me, Detective? Is that how this farce ends, with me in handcuffs?"

Katniss let out a shaky breath, and then shook her head. "No, Peeta." She dropped her chin into her chest, closing her eyes in relief. "That's not what happens now."

"What then?" He questioned harshly.

"I need to find Johanna and then get to a meeting downtown," Katniss folded her arms across her middle as she studied him. "I'd like to come back if you'll allow it. I did consider that it might be you. I admit that. Rather than take it to my bosses, I came here. To you. I couldn't accept that you could do something like that. It's not you. I know that."

"But you still considered it," he reminded her. "Despite what you're telling me now, you thought it. I don't know what else we can do. Where do we go from here?"

"I guess that's up to you," she climbed unsteadily to her feet and made her way to the door. "I've got to go. If you want to see me again, you know where to find me. "

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxxoxo

It took an inordinate amount of time to find the file of one Tyrus Coin and have it delivered. To save time, Gale Hawthorne headed up to Judge Paylor's office and waited impatiently for her clerk to let the judge know he wished to see her. When the woman waved him back, Gale practically bolted through the door in his haste.

"What did you find, Hawthorne?" Paylor looked on in interest as he cracked the file open and skimmed through the contents. His muffled oath caused her brows to rise almost to her hairline.

"Son of a bitch!" He exclaimed. "How is this guy still on the streets?"

"Detective Hawthorne," Paylor commanded. "What did you find?"

Wordlessly, he proffered the file and watched as the judge read the pages hurriedly. "Shit," she blurted abruptly. "How the hell did this happen?"

"They moved," Gale stated somberly. "He came here with his mother when he was fifteen. He kept up with the counseling requirements the sentencing judge recommended. The records were sealed. Once he hit his eighteenth birthday, he stayed clean."

Paylor tapped her pen against the file as she considered. "It's enough to bring him in for questioning. Get a couple of uniforms out there and have him picked up."

Gale reached for his phone to make the call when it suddenly rang. Giving the judge an apologetic look, he turned aside and answered. "Yeah, this is Gale." His brow furrowed as he listened to the tinny voice on the other end. "Did anybody talk to Hazel Hawthorne to find out what time she left? No. Listen, don't worry about it. I'll call her myself. What's the number?" He jotted it down on the back of his hand and then hung up. Paylor shot him an inquiring look but waited as he hurriedly punched a series of numbers. "Mrs. Hawthorne, this is Gale Hawthorne with the Panem Police Department. I'm trying to find Johanna Mason. Can you tell me how long she's been gone?" His eyes flicked to the clock, a frown settling on his features. "And she hasn't been back since? Can you tell me if Tyrus is working today?" He slammed the phone down, raking a hand through his hair as he bit off a muffled oath.

"What is it, Detective?"

Gale's eyes were a curious mixture of anger and fear as he looked up. "Johanna left over three hours ago. She hasn't called in or shown up at the station. She's not responding to texts. Tyrus was supposed to work until 2pm but he's gone and nobody knows where he went or what time he left."

Paylor's lips thinned as she slowly stood, palms flat on the surface of her desk. "He took her, didn't he? He must have figured out that we were close." Gale nodded once, his hands clenching unconsciously at his side. "Any idea where he might have taken her?"

"No," he answered softly. "We don't have a fucking clue."

Judge Paylor dropped her head, her breath leaving in a rush. "Get going. Tell Boggs to use whatever resources he needs. Tear the damned place apart. Do whatever it takes to bring her home."

End part 7….


End file.
